


the weather for today is men

by lovelycherryblondelocks



Series: the kids in this house are loud [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Coming of Age, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Hinata's a primary target, Karasuno Family, M/M, Masturbation, May contain a concerning amount of murder fantasies, Sexual Fantasy, Tsukishima Harem, Tsukishima Kei-centric, Tsukishima has a wild imagination, unedited because kageyama is tired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27417466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelycherryblondelocks/pseuds/lovelycherryblondelocks
Summary: Tsukishima Kei does not give a single shit about being the best in volleyball. No. He's only here for the prime entertainment every angst-ridden, juvenile idiocy offers –and the added bonus of sweat-filled, well-toned, bulging muscles under the tease of skimpy shorts.Luckily, Volleyball has all of those. And in the words of the truly iconic, much beloved, Weather Girls: God bless mother nature, it's raining men!Or, Tsukishima Kei is only here for the fun of it. The sort of fun that usually involves a different kind of ball.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Tsukishima Kei, Futakuchi Kenji/Tsukishima Kei, Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Miya Osamu/Tsukishima Kei, Sakusa Kiyoomi/Tsukishima Kei, Suna Rintarou/Tsukishima Kei, Tsukishima Kei/Everyone, Tsukishima Kei/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Series: the kids in this house are loud [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007316
Comments: 102
Kudos: 261





	1. word of the day: heterophobia

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on impulse and i might regret it later, but before the consequences kick in, let me just say: it was yt's fault for recommending iconic gay anthems to me
> 
> * this fic contains mentions of underage sex, but nothing explicit, or nothing actually happens during Kei's younger years, it's just Kei going through a hormonal phase and dealing with the frustration,
> 
> Tags will be added as the story progresses, at this point im just winging it (kekekeke)
> 
> with that said, i hope you may have a good read (advance apologies for overlooked errors)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If only heterophobic had been the first word he'd learned, Kei could have very well paraded the term as his brand right then and there.
> 
> Too bad sex was easier to remember.

Kei was six when he first learned the word _sex_. He had been running with a couple of snot-filled kids, taunting their small, chicken legs that just couldn't seem to pick up the same pace as his. He'd barely even known of anything remotely intellectual other than dinosaurs and dumb science facts. Still, he was smarter than most of his peers. Considering they were the only kids around, Kei, by default, was also the brightest and cleverest six-year-old in the whole neighbourhood.

It was the only reasonable explanation for why he knew six was the peak number of curiosity. Freud's psychosexual theory may be the bane of most psychology enthusiast's existence, but Kei was neither careful nor truly smart enough to understand the absolute absurdity of the man. All he knew was that six was meant for exploration, the good ol' asking and whining 'til the adults feel awkward about your questions. 

According to Freud, six is the age where kids realise they've got the genitals - the v and the p, as famously labelled. Fascinatingly enough, it's also the age where kids can harbour questionable attraction for their mothers and fathers - or, at least that's what Kei understood. You can never really tell with kids and their addled brains.

And just like any addleheaded fella, Kei was no different about his curiosity. 

That day, as all the kids rested beneath the shade of a wearied oak tree -where the scruffy boys huddled close to each other and the girls twirled their pig-tails, Kei experienced his first kiss.

It had been a stupid dare. The girl wasn't even half as pretty as his mother. But he leaned in anyway. The other kids gasped and cheered of course, like the dumb shitheads they were supposed to be.

The kiss had only lasted for a second before Kei decidedly opted for a retreat. His lips then had been sore, almost burnt. Others thought him flustered. But in all honesty, Kei was just disgusted. _Utterly_ disgusted.

If only heterophobic had been the first word he'd learned, Kei could have very well paraded the term as his brand right then and there.

Too bad _sex_ was easier to remember.

Even worse, it came from the lips of some dumb, nameless, smartass-wanna-be brat who had the audacity to announce to the world,

_"Kei and Ame-chan just had sex! Now Ame-chan will get pregnant!"_

Needless to say, it had taken Kei and his mother a long, anxiety-ridden day to explain to Ame-chan's parents why their daughter had come home crying about early motherhood.

Kei was certain he did not need the learning moment. But he was more than grateful for the experience. Had it not been for Ame-chan's dreadful kiss, Kei might have stayed a completely hopeless closet-case.

For the next ten years of his life, Kei avoided girls like the plague.

* * *

Kei was 13 when he finally told his mother, in that flat, unassuming tone of his, that he might not be the best son to hope for a grandkid. His mother had been nothing but kind about his confession. She too, as any nurturing mother would, taught him a word he was yet to learn himself, 

_"I love you even if you were gay, son."_ His mother had assured him.

Kei, much too daft to read a dictionary on his own, stupidly parroted his mother's words with a near-comical blink. 

_"Gay? What's that?"_

It took his mother all the patience she had to stop herself from balling her eyes out at the mere stupidity of her child. Her explanation had been a little jarring, the word in question more muddled due to her incoherent simplification. Thankfully (for mother), Kei had half the mind to search for it himself (deep sentiments for his brother's browser history).

Gay, he learned that night, had two known synonyms. One was _happy_. The other, well, it just meant _Kei_.

The endless search for definitions costed Kei more than a few hours of surfing the web, but he was finally able to come up with a sound (not) conclusion (which was what really mattered the most). A tedious process, Kei would admit. Still, he applauded himself for the effort. Really, he was beyond ecstatic to know more about the term. 

It was like a classic _aha_ moment, except Kei didn't really have any innovative inventions in the making. That night, clothed only with the covers of his blankets (away from the pensive glances of his family), something compelled him to dance to ABBA's Dancing Queen and scream to the world a name he should have been called years and years ago (so just about the time of his conception):

Kei is gay. And he is _gay_ for being gay. Truthfully, undeniably, irrefutably gay.

And he damn sure made the best out of his discovery.

* * *

When Kei turned 15, he made an indisputable decision. The Village People's YMCA was going to be his theme song. And he was going to own it. _Dearly_ , Kei must add.

He'd first stumbled upon the song on his way home. Plagued by the yearning for something new, Kei found himself shuffling through different playlists without a hitch. It wasn't peculiar to break away from the morose, downcast beats of sad emo singers. Kei did it often for days he felt more than fine. But it surely was the first time he had thought better than to skip 70's classics. 

A frank misstep. That was what had Kei banging his head to a number of wiry, jolly, soulful divas and funky, dancing songsters. Just one clumsy glide and Kei's playlist subjected itself to a merry reform. Among a few other things.

If Kei were to recount the times he'd played the song, he could have had himself a country for the gays. But Kei will spare you the trouble and only recount the times it left an enormous impact.

The first time he played it, it was during his grandmother's funeral - he figured the damn old hag needed some good music to go along with her homophobia. Kei wished her only the best of rest.

The second time, he put it on repeat and danced in his room all night. Just a week after his Nana's death. 

And when December finally rolled in, YMCA had officially made itself to the family's Christmas playlist. Kei relished the flush of his brother's girlfriend that one late dinner beside the cackling fireplace.

However, nothing, and as in _nothing_ , could ever compare to the delight Kei felt when he heard the song play for Haruto-san.

 _Ah_ , Haruto-san. Tall, dark and charming Haruto-san. With his unchallenged flair and stupid, husky chuckles. Kei never really thought much about boys and sex even when he was at the peak age to pine for one. He was awfully content with a quick wank and doze. His libido never reached more than a few visits to gay porn sites and wrinkly magazines. 

But Haruto-san, _oh_ , Kei did not even know where to begin with him. The night Akiteru came tumbling home a wailing wreck (fresh off a messy break-up), was the night Kei met the most beautiful entity in the whole world. 

Haruto-san was a saint. A dreamy, godsend to everything unholy. And Kei could go on and on about his lean physique, his silky locks and dashing smile. He could easily describe the way Haruto-san's teeth glinted every time he smiled, how his eyes sparkled over Akiteru's unfunny quips or how his fingers felt every time Kei subtly offered his head for a pat. 

When Kei met Haruto-san, there was not a need to play the song. He'd outright just heard it ring in his head. The moment he landed his eyes on the man, Kei's heart pumped a hundred beats. And the rest of the blood went straight down to his lonely, once uninterested _p_.

Kei spent the remaining years of his one-five with more than just a few strokes in the sheets. YMCA in the background with curtains closed, lights barely lit and pillows tossed aside, a few imaginary Haruto-san here and there, perhaps beside him, behind him or on top –Kei revelled in all of it like a bitch on heat.

Too bad Haruto-san had the hots for the other Tsukishima. 

Tough luck for mother and father, really.

* * *

Now we're on to Kei's 16th year of existence.

We now know that Kei is a snobbish, secretly horny, might-as-well-be-incubus heathen ( a bit redundant, but just for the sake of nicely-worded adjectives). What we don't know is that Kei's new theme song is Weather Girl's It's Raining Men. 

Kei is now 16. He joins a volleyball club just for the fun of it. With a newly refined playlist and too much time in his hand — he makes a new discovery:

The volleyball club has a lot of pretty boys. 

Kei isn't sure his gay heart is going to survive such _weather_.

Oh well, God bless mother nature.

* * *

The gay train is starting. First stop: Futakuchi Kenji. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh...welcome to the gay train i guess?


	2. word of the day: sexcapades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." Kei breathes a little lighter as the hold on him loosens. "I-I panicked and y-you looked like you were going to rat me out so..."
> 
> Futakuchi breathes out a startled snort. "You kiss guys when you panic?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im writing this with a sleep-deprived brain. forgive me.

Tsukishima Kei has a confession to make. Actually, he has three confessions to make. Kei asks that all three confessions must be understood with no malicious judgement or unwarranted scrutiny. Because Kei is the only one allowed to act like a prick and he is not about to encourage any blatant jeers thrown his way. That is Kei's job. It's his sole reason for existing. He refuses to be on the receiving end (well, except for particular cases Kei cannot elaborate).

His first confession, that he supposes must be accepted wholeheartedly (again, he must remind), is not too uncommon of a habit for any teenager. But it is unfairly laughed upon by the general male populace. See, the thing about young boys (and some immature men) is that they are still in the _no_ on a lot of feminine things. For them, make-up is a foreign substance only meant for females (a very, very misguided belief if Kei must say) and clothes, colours and even scents are to be arranged based on gender (utterly idiotic too, if Kei must add again). 

The problem then, if Kei were to heed to such obnoxiously ignorant standards, is that almost everything he prefers is thought to be for the opposite sex. Kei uses powders and foundation for untimely blemishes. Kei uses a lip balm to keep his lips soft. He has a collection of glosses too, all strawberry flavoured of course. His perfume is a soft mix of milk and strawberry. The clothes he wears, on the off-days where no meddlesome crow can peck at his business, are billowy, sometimes flimsy and pastel. 

If Kei were to admit that would be the extent of his first confession, he would obviously be lying. Because Kei is yet to list the most offensive item for a man's "masculinity".

The thing that Kei knows most boys (at least the ones in his class) would find the least manly would be a diary. And Kei just so happens to be the best at writing one. 

Do not be fooled, however. The diary may be a pretty, glitzy golden pad but its contents are _unsaintly_. The diary oozes with unabashed, teenage carnal scribblings - lewd enough to be on the same level as some active adult's sexual ventures. To put it simply, Kei keeps a diary for the main purpose of recording imagined sexcapades. The recent entries more shameless than the last.

What makes this diary more glaring than the notes of most rational teenage minds is the list of names it contains. To better understand the severity of Kei's hormonal phase, let us take a peek at the several excerpts in his well-hidden, tightly-sealed, highly confidential accounts:

_#56_

_"We were changing in the locker rooms when I saw a glimpse of Asahi-san's back. I might have gulped a little because of the way his muscles stretched. I think they would look really good with my nail marks on them."_

_#78_

_"Sawamura-san tried to teach me how to receive serves today. I couldn't stop staring at his thighs the whole time. I wonder how good it would feel to have them pressed against me."_

_#90_

_"Sugawara-san has really nice hands. If it's his hand on me, I wouldn't mind a little strangulation."_

_#100_

_"I hate that Oikawa guy. He's so fucking annoying._

_But... I kinda want him to step on me. Just a little though. Okay, maybe a lot."_

_#130_

_"I wonder if Seijoh's vice-captain is into whips. I bet he'd be really good with it."_

_#140_

_I'm not gonna lie. King is looking more toned today - what, no this is wrong. Kagayema? Kageyama Tobio? no, no, no, no -absolutely not. Bad Kei. Down Kei!_

~~_(I just heard him grunt. It was so hot I glared at him for ten minutes.)_ ~~

_#190_

_"Tanaka-san sure is rowdy. Is he rowdy in bed too? I bet he knows how to put that energy into good use -_

_Annnd_ , based on these accounts, one could say that Tsukishima Kei is a healthy, active young boy. The only excuse he has for this is that he is 17 and imaginative. 

And the only excuse he has for his third confession - Kei is gay. So, _so_ gay. 

Because Kei, despite his prickly (ha), scornful, scathing disposition (and undeniable penchant for cynicism) - is a sucker for romance. He may be the horniest of the horniest bunch, but he wants his experience to be intimate and passionate. An amorous lovemaking with lots and lots of sweet kisses and loving touches.

Maybe he'll whine and cry a little and they'll wipe his tears. They'll shush him with deep, slow grinds. _In and out_ , _in and out -_ gently and expertly, just as he wants it. Then they'll make him writhe and shake and shiver. They'll catch his gasps with a slap to the cheeks, chiding him in that husky, growly tone. _Keep your voice low_ , they'll say. But then they'll slam into him. A fast and hard rhythm that would make his toes curl and his moans raspy. Again and again, until Kei is just a shaking wreck in the sheets. Of course, both of them will be bare, oblivious to the world with no clothes to latch on but each other's skin. 

And Kei will beg for them to go faster and faster and faster until he screams and disturb the neighbours because _YES! YES! RIGHT THERE BABY! OH GOD YES!_ and then, and then -

The point is Kei wants to make love with someone. He just needs someone. It just so happens his diary has a number of boys to choose from. And it just so happens he's the least "free-looking" guy in the school. 

Everyone assumes that Kei is not one for romance.

Which sucks like shit, really. 

So Kei may quite possibly need help.

The help, as unexpectedly bizarre as it is, comes in the form of Date Tech's Futakuchi Kenji.

* * *

When Kei was in middle school he never really understood the immense proclivity of his female classmates for tall boys. Kei, being a constant recipient of love confessions despite showing close to no interest to girls, was even more confused when girls came to him fawning about his height. When he tried to entertain the reasons for their advances, Kei found the explanations even more irrational. 

Really, what's so good about being tall? It was even more jarring to know most of the girls had preferred height over any other features. Wouldn't anyone, girl or boy, be particular about the face more than anything else?

Kei simply didn't get it.

It was only when he met Futakuchi Kenji, that Kei understood the appeal. 

Futakuchi Kenji, is a fucking blessing. Sure, nothing will ever come close to Haruto-san. But _still_. There is something about Futakuchi that _bothers_ Kei. His smirk, his gaze his perfect hair. And yes, Kei is taller than him. But the way Futakuchi presents himself could easily tower over Kei's poor excuse of self-confidence. Futakuchi Kenji is just, _just_ \- hot. One look from him and Kei will be damned to suffer tumultuous thoughts - thoughts even sex-ed cannot account for.

But then he opens his mouth and all of Kei's hope for a dashing prince is stripped away from him. Kei wouldn't have minded if he stripped his clothes instead. The problem with Futakuchi Kenji, as of this unfortunate moment, is that he is a bitch.

Kei is one too.

You cannot pair a bitch with a bitch or else the world will be thrown into hellfire. 

The only way the negative x negative = positive argument will ever work is if both negatives have a chance at redemption. Kei finds out neither of them possesses the barest possibility of turning good.

So the first interaction with Futakuchi Kenji had Kei eliminating all chances. 

But the second interaction had Kei writing several entries on his diary.

Because the second time he meets him, Futakuchi saves his sorry ass from a decade's worth of humiliation (by giving him a century's worth of regret).

* * *

Here's what happened. Kei and his mother decided to indulge in a shopping spree with Dad's weeping credit card. Kei, having forgotten to tell you a story of his that transpired years ago when he was 14, gets his lame, dumb ass beaten by _hard_ luck (no pun intended here, Kei is in serious peril). 

You see, when Kei was 14 years old, he made a reckless endeavour. And by endeavour, he means making out with his baldheaded, brash neighbour, Nakamura Sato. It had been an unplanned session. One minute they were skimming through mangas and the next, Kei felt a tongue down his throat. The make-out session was messy. Everything about it was just vomit-inducing for Kei. But for Sato, the kisses meant more. For Sato, it was a catalyst for uncharted obsession. 

Now Kei, plagued by the consequences of his unwise, dimwitted actions, is forever tormented by Sato's unrelenting pursuit.

And that pursuit has extended to this fateful day, where Kei is a skitterish moron forced to hide behind racks after racks of clothing, just to evade a conversation with the other. But even his efforts could not evade his mother's awfully timed beckon.

"Kei! There you are!" Kei's mother is a softspoken woman. When she's excited, she is anything but. It's an endearing quality that Kei did not have any need for now. Oh, if only her volume wasn't loud enough to alert everyone in their vicinity.

His luck is scant though. The only thing destiny plans for Kei is misery. Such a plan includes Sato perking up to his name and walking straight towards his direction. Such a plan includes Kei tensing up and running straight towards the other way. 

The other way, unfortunately, is a cramped fitting room too narrow for two people. The other way also has someone in it.

"What the fuck are you doing here, glasses?"

Panic rises in his bones as Kei comes face to face with Futakuchi Kenji.

Kei is more than ready to take another exit and bury his embarrassment at the nearest cemetery. But before he could even dare another step, the halls outside resound with a familiar voice. A voice Kei likened to Satan's maniacal laughter.

"Kei! Are you there?" Sato's bellow begins to augment. His footsteps become more and more pronounced as he knocks on each stall.

"Keeeiiii?" for stall number 2,

"I know you're in there~" for stall number three,

"Keiii!" an eager call for stall number four, and

"Kei?" stall number five, just across six - where Kei is taking refuge.

"Kei, you in there?"

Kei feels the heat of a stare pin on him. Futakuchi faintly hums at him, knowing. His smirk is evident. He swipes a tongue and part his lips. The intent to respond is painted clearly on his face. Kei's keen brain short-circuits at the realisation and makes an awful, _awful_ decision.

He smothers Futakuchi's lips with his. 

The door creaks open and Kei is just about ready to flee the scene. His escape, by some miraculous Wattpad cliche, is deterred by a surprising turn of events. 

Futakuchi does something beyond Kei's prediction. He pulls him by the waist and kisses back. _Hard_.

"Wha-" 

The rest of Sato's protest is interrupted by a deathly stare. Kei hears the fumble in the other's breath, how he gulps and backtracks in a chary, nervous way. Perhaps, if Kei had not been in imminent danger, he would have swooned at such a display of influence. Secretly, of course. He still has a reputation to uphold after all. 

"Can we help you?" Futakuchi cuts through the thick atmosphere. He makes a show of resting a proud chin on Kei's arched shoulders. Kei keeps his back turned to Sato, determined to not let any mad tinge of red crawl to his face. He prays, sincerely prays, Sato doesn't recognise his hair.

Thankfully, Sato is dense enough to not recognise _anything_ at all. He fumbles for a hasty response, squeaking, "N-nothing! I'm sorry, I might have knocked on the wrong stall. I-I'll be going now, you, _uh_ , do your thing...? _okaygoodbyegoodluck_!"

Not a second later, Kei learns to breathe again. 

"So..." The older starts. "What was that all about?"

Kei loses his breath in just a span of two seconds. He whips his head to face the other, nose just an inch away. "Not. A. Word."

Futakuchi arches his brows. He reclines, back lax against the wall. His raises his arms and Kei notices belatedly that the boy is shirtless. Futakuchi is shirtless. And Kei has his palm flat against his bare chest. 

Kei pushes himself away. The soles of feet are restive, ready for a run. "Anyway, thank you for your help. I'll be going n- _mhf_!"

In a blur, Kei feels his back hit against the frame of the door. He bristles instinctively and bites back a yelp. Futakuchi fastens his wrists to the wall with a deathly grip. 

"You can't expect me to let you go just like that, glasses-kun. Not after breaking into my stall and kissing me out of nowhere." The older's tone is sweet. But the edge of it drips with venom. "I thought the Karasuno first-years have better manners than that, hm?"

Even with his height, Kei struggles to free himself from the hold. He fidgets, uncharacteristically timid under the other's gaze. The teen did have a point. What Kei did was in no way good. He would bring dishonour to his family if he didn't have half the morals to apologize for his actions and take responsibility. 

So with a mumble (and a hopeful wish to everything holy that Sato may face bad karma), Kei holds his chin high and sends the man an earnest look of apology. 

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." Kei breathes a little lighter as the hold on him loosens. "I-I panicked and y-you looked like you were going to rat me out so..."

Futakuchi breathes out a startled snort. "You kiss guys when you panic?" 

"No." Kei answers more curtly. He wonders if the older would be surprised to know he's Kei's third kiss. Kei decides not to mull over the fact for fear of inciting some unnecessary thoughts.

"Listen, I really am sorry. It's just...I didn't know what else to do." 

"Well, I'm still not okay with what you did but," Futakuchi shows him a grin, expression mischievous. "I'd feel better if you tell me more about your relationship with that baldhead."

Kei doesn't even get the chance to question the older's motives. In no less than a minute, Futakuchi fishes out his phone. He waits patiently for Kei to tap his numbers in.

Suddenly, the urge to curse Sato's whole existence doubles a hundredfold. 

* * *

Kei makes the wise choice of explaining everything to Futakuchi. Kei makes the unwise choice of trusting him with the details.

And Futakuchi makes the grand choice of making his life a living hell.

It happens during a practice match.

Futakuchi begins his harassment with a few casual winks. Kei makes it his primary mission to dodge the bouncing sparkles sent his way. He veers away from the subtle glances, the close-mouthed grins and the scalding caresses he leaves on Kei as he hands him something. A bottle, a ball, his own frisky hand, anything to badger Kei. 

What Futakuchi isn't aware of is that Kei is not one to back down from a mocking battle.

If there's one thing people should know about him, it's that he is a stubborn shithead. He poses a challenge to the older, feeling just as bold to send him ominous glares and untold promises of murder. All the urge to bow and thank the man for his help goes straight down the drain with a good _fuck you_ to Futakuchi's face. Kei isn't even furtive about it. He brazenly curses the man with his frosty stares.

But if there's one thing Kei should know about Futakuchi, it's that he is one hell of a tease. His jests are colourful, his passes are vague enough to have different meanings and the lilt of his syllables is flirtatious. Kei may not have anticipated the provocation, but he does know one thing about Futakuchi.

He's a bitch. 

Kei surmises his charm is mostly reliant on him being stellar at it. And despite Kei's adamant denial, he is really, _really_ turned on by the teasing. Especially after seeing Futakuchi shoot down one of Hinata's annoying spikes. Witnessing it just made Kei feel all woozy in the head. The smirk at the end did not help one bit. And it just made his stomach tingle until break time.

He _troubles_ Kei so damn much Sugawara-san easily picks up on his fervent gazes.

"Since when did you guys get close?" 

The question comes out of nowhere and it puts Kei on defence. 

"W-we're not." He fails to keep his voice flat. 

Sugawara-san drawls out his voice as he squints at Kei. "Really?"

Kei tries to divert the man's attention with a blank look, trying to act unaffected. "Sugawara-san, shouldn't you be preparing for the next match?" 

The older simply chuckles at his attempt. "He seems to be friendlier to you than last time. He even keeps glancing your way."

"That's!" Kei clears his throat as his voice cracks. "He's just doing it to distract me. Like a diversion...or something."

" _Hmmmm_ ," Sugawara-san nods thoughtfully. His eyes are still glued on Kei. Even with the gap in height, his gaze pierces. "If you say so. But, if it's bothering you, I can talk to him about it -"

"There's no need for that, Sugawara-san. " Kei lowers his tone, polite as he adds, "Thank you for the concern."

Sugawara does not answer him. They take a long minute of silence. Their unsaid words hang in the air, far from the busy crowd of impatient players. At loss for what to do, Sugawara-san chooses to invite himself beside Kei's spot. He brushes a shoulder and hands Kei a drink.

Kei takes it wordlessly but not before daring a peek at the older's fingers. His _long_ , thin five digits. 

"You okay there, Tsukishima?"

Kei takes a while to nod. He downs his bottle in one go and focuses his gaze on anywhere else but the older's hands. 

His thoughtless decision to gander at the other kids is what finally throws him out of his element. 

From across them, standing tall and smug is Futakuchi. He greets Kei with the tilt of his chin. Puckering his lips, he blows him a kiss.

The whole gym stops to gawk.

Practice ends with Kei dunking his head into the bathroom's sink and ignoring all of his teammate's questions.

* * *

Kei has a fourth confession to make. 

He has a special pillow. This pillow is no ordinary pillow. Kei only brings it out on days he has a new boy in mind to daydream about. 

This evening is a special occasion. Because tonight, the lights are closed and there are scented candles all around him. Tonight, the song is Pointer Sisters' _I'm So Excited_.

Kei has his door locked. His imagination is unhinged. For this wondrous evening, Futakuchi will be his company. 

"Where do you want me to start?" The croak of his voice tickles Kei. Within an instant, the bed dips under Futakuchi's approaching shadow.

Kei brings the pillow closer to his thighs. He runs a hand over his chest, feeling the ghost of breath on him. Through his hazy sight, he sees Futakuchi come closer.

"On top of me." He whispers to the boy. 

Futakuchi huffs at him, that same, smug smile in place. "As you wish."

To quote the sisters' glorious, most exalted lyrics: _Tonight's the night they're going to make it happen._

* * *

Kei spends the next few days ignoring Futakuchi's calls.


	3. word of the day: kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day Kei chooses to put his faith in the universe and hope for a miracle, the universe kicks him right in the ass to remind him of his infinitesimal, exceptionally unimportant significance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for such foul language but, I don't know what the fuck I was doing with this one, lol
> 
> also, i just realised ive been writing kei's age as 17, pls forgive me that was supposed to be 16 - but like, it's not like the timeline even makes sense so....
> 
> have a good read, i guess?? (and apologies for any overlooked errors)

Entry # 200:

I had another dream about Iwaizumi-san. We went on a date and watched a fireworks display together.

~~(Then I rode him like a cowboy shortly afterwards)~~

* * *

Tsukishima Kei has a deeply-rooted fondness for voice. The kind of voice that has a husky edge to it. The kind that grunts and grumbles and yells with a timbre so resonant it can wreak a tumultuous earthquake with just its vibrations. The kind that makes you tremble and submit every time a growl accompanies it. 

Kageyama's voice is sadly an exemplary near-imitation of that sort of perfection. Iwaizumi-san comes second, but Kageyama's - Kageyama's, _god_ , Kei doesn't even know how to begin it. He just has _that_ pitch right. The frayed ends of his snarls when he barks at Hinata has a distinct, almost unchallenged flair. His mumbles too, though grievously annoying, are the most heavenly Kei has come across in a long, _long_ while. And boy does Kei hate that it's Kageyama's voice. The world is utterly unfair for not giving the voice a more bearable face than Kageyama's. 

But if there's one thing more grating than his voice (abrading in a sense that immediately has Kei squirming), it's Sato's. And it's not maddening in the way that Kageyama's brusque talks and empty-brained insults rile him up. It's maddening in the way that incites Kei to _kill_. Sato's voice is pure murder.

"I'm glad you agreed to come with me, Kei!"

\- that is why Kei is more than willing to suffer an hour with the boy than a week of his nasally cackles latching on to his ears. 

"You forced me here." Kei deadpans. Sato beams at his frank disinterest with no care whatsoever but the bare spaces between their fingers. 

"You came on your own volition, didn't you?" Sato reminds.

"You threatened to stop by my school every _single_ day if I refused." Kei bristles. 

"But you still agreed." Sato raises his hand in slack objection. His face is smug with certainty as if Kei hadn't previously screamed colourful profanities at him in front of all their meddlesome neighbours. The cops Kei had tried to call had been nothing but severe about his language. And even then, Sato remained one dogged fella. Truly an unyielding dimwit of the century. 

"I gotta say getting the cops involved was way out of line." Sato lolls his head to the rustic music of the cafe. His voice is thin, more vexing now that he has it blasted into every corner of the dingy ceilings. "But not even they could stop my love for you. I'm telling you, my scintillating firefly. I won't give you up."

"Do _not_ call me that." Kei reproaches through gritted teeth. With unparalleled magic only Sato is capable of, Kei finds himself gesticulating animatedly to the boy's words. "Seriously, what can I do to stop you from following me around?" Except maybe killing him, that is. But Kei is 16 and his family is not moneyed enough for a remarkable lawyer. 

Sato reclines on the backrest with a confident squeak. He rests both elbows on the chair's ledge, hands dangling foolishly. Like this, Kei can see his pathetic display of coolness in full view. 

"I already told you. Nothing can stop my feelings for you, love." The boy struggles to send him a winsome wink. His attempt at a British accent drives Kei's rationality into the nearest death-cliff. He's absolutely embarrassed for the boy. Genuinely, earnestly - _indisputably_ embarrassed. 

"Nothing, you say?" Kei pries. He keeps his composure still and in great defiance. Kei will not squander any of his stubbornness for a mere, futile entity such as Sato. Mother did not waste her premium yoga lessons to teach Kei the art of adamant dissent just so Kei could betray her like that. No. Kei is a Tsukishima through and through. And he will not easily bow down to any form of humiliation. Nor will he concede to them (an overstatement, sure -but let us allow Kei this rare moment of confidence). 

And so with a sudden spike of admirable conviction, Kei folds his arms and raises his nose high. Even when pitted against the thunderous havoc that is Sato's unfortunate existence, Kei is unbending (ha, only Sato would ever evoke such an obstinacy).

He stares at Sato, squint narrower than the length of his thinning patience. Finally, he dares, "What if I told you I'm a church boy? I go to every prayer meeting and sing about putting God first?"

Sato, the impervious heathen that he is, simply shrugs a lax shoulder. "No judgement. I'll learn the songs with you so we can worship God together. The two of us, happy gays clapping in Jesus' name. Romantic, right?"

The proposition paints a throbbing vein on Kei's temple. "I love getting my feet sucked. I want all my ten toes licked every night."

The boy's smile wanes a little but his posture carries that same old tenacious certitude. "I can live with that."

"And if I tell you I like putting mayo on each toe before you kiss them?"

"A-anything for you, darling." Sato meekly insists. 

Kei's eyes constrict into slits, volume hissing. "I dream of having ten kids and five cats."

"We can have more."

"I dream about having sex in front of my grandmother's graveyard!"

"Everyone has some weird fantasy. I still love you regardless."

"I have a mole on my ass the size of a caterpillar!"

"Flaws are flaws. Yours just make you more beautiful."

"I...I..." Kei tries to gasp for air. He puffs up his chest, half of his body leaning dangerously close towards the boy. "I think Beyonce is overrated and I hate her songs!"

The confession does not deter Sato one bit. He lays a hand on Kei's clenched fists and bares him a thoughtful, unassuming smile, "Everyone is entitled to their own opinion."

That was all Kei needed to bump his head against the table with a worrying thump. He muffles his wails, bereaved beyond words to even utter a single, coherent speech. Sato regards him with a tender gaze.

"There, there Kei." He begins, voice mushier than before. For a second, Kei wishes for Kageyama's voice to erupt and cleanse his ears of that awful shush. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. No matter what, you will always be the love of my life. My light when the sun falls down too fast. The miracle that I've been waiting for my whole existence. A star among the billions of star that I will never get tired of gazing at. My soulmate. My other half." 

Kei reddens at his shameless yapping. He smothers his face with two open palms, burying the rest of his reason with him. "Please stop." 

Sato ignores him for the sake of pursuing his senseless rambles. "Of course, it'd be a huge problem if someone else is vying for your heart. But seeing as you only have your eyes set on me, I don't think I have to worry about anything."

Kei perks. His eyes widen, ecstatic from the unforeseen chance at freedom. "Problem? How bad of a problem would it be if I have someone else?"

"Let's see," Sato scrubs his imaginary moustache, "It'd be a humungous predicament in all honesty. As a gentleman who prides himself with honour, I wouldn't dare take another man's possession. But you're not really taken or anything so there's no need for me to -"

"Actually!" Kei startles himself with the highness of his pitch. He calms his jittery nerves and composes himself. "I have a boyfriend." 

The whole world stops (but they don't stare because Kei is just pointing out blankly the exaggerated effect of his dilemma's peculiarity). Like a wheel pulled to a screeching halt, the atmosphere deadens. Sato gapes, three, four, five blinks later he exhales a heavy sigh.

"Did your dad put you up to this?" He has the gall to involve Kei's father. _Unbelievable._

Kei almost shrieks out of character from the mere accusation. "What? No!"

Sato parries off the correction with the drag of his breath, frown contemplative. "I know your father and I aren't the best of friends-"

"My dad hates you!"

"But," Sato tuts. "he cannot hinder my-"

"Feelings for me?" Kei intervenes huffishly. "Yeah, yeah you've said it enough times it's chafing my ears. Anyway, my dad has got nothing to do with this. I really am taken. _Happily_ taken."

His proud admission earns him a dubious squint. 

"You?" Sato croaks. "Taken?"

"Yes." Kei nods. His shoulders move with him. 

God, why had Kei not thought of this sooner? He was supposed to be the smart guy. The bright, shrewd genius who likes sitting at the 'backbench'. The kind of student teachers like to torment just for the rare bouts of satisfaction, only to end up making a fool out of themselves when he answers correctly despite inattentively attending his classes - which yeah, Kei isn't really that level of genius, but he could very well be if he just read more books. Kei is mediocre at best. But his brain still has some cogs working perfectly well. It's jarring how none of those cogs even thought of curating such a generic lie that any stupider brain could buy. 

"You're really taken?" Sato repeats the word like it's venom in his mouth. "Like really, really taken?

"Uh-huh." Kei is still angry at himself for the unnecessary delay. But he's also rejoicing at the prospect of greater liberation. "And my boyfriend's real possessive so..." 

"I don't believe it."

Kei gawks. "What?"

"You've been single all your life and suddenly you have a boyfriend now?"

"Well," Kei hides his fingers beneath the table. He fiddles with the flapping edge of his sleeves and prays to everything holy that the working cells in Sato's mind are misshapen enough to accept his pretence. Goddamit he _has_ to. "You don't know everything about me...?"

For a moment Kei thinks his lies are already ineffective. He prepares himself for the jostle of being caught, desperate to keep some fragment of his dignity intact. What he doesn't prepare for is the inconceivable inner machinations of Sato's logic and the barest lengths they go through to come up with a sound conclusion.

"It is true that I haven't followed you enough to know all about you." Sato has his fingers glued to the same chin again, more ruminative than ever. "And I wouldn't be able to have updates on everything but... _hmm_ , yes, yes, I suppose it's possible."

"Right!" Kei vehemently shakes his head in agreement. He tries to contain his buzzing energy, thankful for the absence of any tittering _crows_. "I mean, we're still kinda new but he's been really good to me and he treats me well and -"

"Prove it." 

Apparently, some cogs in Sato's brain actually work.

Kei blinks. "What?"

"You heard what I said." Sato folds his arms. "Prove it. I can't have you making up imaginary boyfriends just to fool me, sweetheart."

The blond twitches at the nickname. He coughs out a lacklustre chuckle. "Proof? You want proof? Okay, _okay_." Bracing himself, Kei begins to recount, "Do you remember that time, at the mall, when you thought you saw me?"

"Yeah?" Sato affirms.

"Then you tried to follow me only to end up intruding on a couple's make-out session?"

Sato narrows his eyes in recognition. "Yeaaah?"

Kei takes a deep breath. Then, with all the audacity he can muster, "That was me... _and_ my boyfriend."

His impulsivity takes him to a deathly plunge. The risk is uncalled for. But the distraught look on Sato's face brings immense pleasure to Kei's heart that he forgets all about the repercussions.

(Regrettably, the arrival of his realization is badly delayed.)

* * *

Entry #201: 

Not a kink discovery.

I just want to say: I am a huge fuck-up. A ginormous, disposable, pathetic fuck-up.

Which isn't anything new, really. But _still_.

~~(I could use Sawamura-san's daily dose of lecture right now. Preferably while he's shirtless.)~~

* * *

Tsukishima Kei forgets all about his asinine troubles when he comes face to face with Ushijima Wakatoshi. 

Tsukishima Kei forgets all of his gigantic fuck-ups when he hears Ushijima's first grunt of the day.

Ushijima's voice does something to him. He makes him forget he's in the gym, surrounded by a team who expects him to block well and a coach who believes in his capabilities to be reasonable. Ushijima is a damning force. He makes Kei feel like he can speak the sexiest language known to man just so he can seduce him with it. _Good lord_ , his voice is hell's greatest temptation and they feed Kei's unexplored fantasies of heated love affairs. 

Perhaps they could be lovers of a noontime telenovela. Maybe a wiry, static whirring plays on the background. The music is a guitar solo with some hot Spanish singer whispering in the air. Kei in his frilly dress clad in slutty modesty and knee-high socks. Ushijima is the aloof master of the house he works in, with two rebellious kids deeply affected by their mother's abandonment. Their first meeting will have Kei thinking he's discourteous and tactless - but then a happenstance will let Kei learn his master has a golden heart, frosted only by a messy divorce that Kei will soon fix with his lilted accent and twinkling glances.

 _Si, Señor~_ He'll say.

 _Sere buen señor~_ He'll whisper.

_Something vaguely suggestive in Spanish, señor~_

(Kei isn't sure of the accuracy, he has the huge disadvantage of being born Japanese)

But _oh_ , he could just imagine. Kei, Ushijima, some nameless brats with insufficient intellect and a string of cliches to drown their bodies in. Kei doesn't mind dousing himself in the intoxicating allure of a passionate plot. And all because of a grunt. A coarse, innocent grunt that makes him feel filthy. Kei does not regret sighing dreamily every time he hears it. He makes the grand endeavour to heed to all the blaring, scorching, clammy _benefits_ the sport has to offer.

God, if Kei had the honours to name his voice, he'd call it _Walking on Sunshine_. Because Ushjima ignites something in Kei akin to it - and also because his effect on him has Kei literally walking on Hinata's back.

"O-oi! Watch where you're going you damn french fry!"

Kei's bad luck sends him stumbling on another step. Kei's evil luck throws a ball at his head and completely pushes him towards Hinata. He falls in slow motion, the blurred glimpses of their teammates wincing as Kei smothers the rest of Hinata's pained pleas.

"Ah! Tsukishima, Hinata - are you guys okay?!" Takeda-sensei hurriedly runs their way. His clipboard is long discarded, promptly swapped with a bottle of water and towel. 

The rest of the team come trundling their way, more hesitant. They crowd over Kei's immobile body and Hinata's floundering limbs, stuck beneath his leaden weight. Shadows lurk in his hazy vision. In just three seconds, Kei finds himself counting two, three, six heads - oh and look, there are flying birds hovering above them. 

"Tsukki!" Yamaguchi's wide eyes water with panic. "A-are you okay?! You're bleeding! Takeda-sensei, he's bleeding!"

Bleeding? Kei? Kei doesn't bleed, he's not a woman - hot liquid trickles down his nostrils. Kei swipes a tongue and tastes blood. 

"Oh...I'm bleedin'" His words begin to slur as he forces himself up, only to tumble back again and squeeze a waning wheeze out of Hinata. " _Whe_ \- wha's, whatsh hafeng -? Why is Tanaka-san rapping...?"

"Oh no..." Takeda's breath hitches. "He might have a concussion!"

Concussion? Was that why his head is hurting? And why are they suddenly in maid costumes? Why is - _wait_ , is that Ushijima in a suit? 

"Are you okay?" The boy towers over Kei, dressed in a tight-fit marron attire paired with the fanciest tie Kei has ever seen.

Kei almost drools at the sight. Giggling stupidly he says, " _Si se_ _ñ_ _or_ ~"

The gym's floor squeaks back an eerie silence. Kei doesn't remember the rest of the noise that followed.

* * *

Kei has a vision.

Or at least he thinks he's got the magic to call it one. 

In this vision, there is a stage. Sort of. Kei could barely make out the vague details. The skies are lit up by a barrage of neon lights. There is a stream of crowd from below the stage's stairs, pumped up high school students hooting at the singers in front. Kei does not have an inkling of why Yachi is up there playing the drums, with Hinata on the keyboard and Yamaguchi strumming cooly on the bass guitar. Kei cannot, for the life of him, comprehend why Kageyama is there too - rocking a windswept hair and black nails, fingers stuck to an electric guitar.

As if his vision cannot be even more jarring, Kei sees himself at the centre of it all - garbed in the same skimpy skirt as the others, legs draped in fishnet stockings and knee-length boots. His instrument is a mic - and he realises much too late that the crowd is cheering for his singing. They're cheering for Kei.

Kei looks like he enjoys it too. He owns the place. He commands the attention of everyone. He's got a huge smile on his face, beaming brighter than the blasted flames of the platform (which is absolutely nonsensical seeing as the setting is at Karasuno and the school is nowhere loaded nor generous with the funds). This Kei in his vision is liberated - untethered. And he's laughing. _Laughing_. 

Kei decides right then and there the vision is a punishment from hellfire because Kei does not laugh like that. He does not laugh at all (except on the few occasions Hinata and Kageyama's last neurons get the best of him). Kei is _the_ grinch, the epitome of all that is bitter in the world and the very definition of NO.

 _Other_ Kei has the guts to sparkle like a ball of glitter (as if he wasn't gay enough). And then Kei sees himself dancing with the mic, enthusing the crowd with some enticing vocals, jumping and belting notes after notes higher than the other -

The nearing end of the vision is as ambiguous as the event. But one thing Kei notices from the stream of smudged lines is the backstage scene. A boy faces him, hands on his hips and nose just an inch away. Kei isn't there to truly feel the thump of his own heart, but he might as well be the Kei he's witnessing with how erratic the beats are. 

Kei stares at the vivid spectacle, two boys, behind the large expanse of a rainbow backdrop (courtesy to the drama club's brilliance perhaps), eyes almost closed and lips parted to breathe in each other's sighs. And Kei is inching closer, and closer and -

_BOOM!_

Suddenly there are fireworks. Suddenly there's Kei, grinning from ear to ear looking at whoever this faceless boy is, looking like the gayest gay out there. A lovesick fool of the decade. _Huh_ , doesn't sound too bad. Kei doesn't mind lingering a little longer to see how the vision could play out -

"Tsukki! Are you still there?! You're not dead, are you?"

The cacophonies of skittish nerves and elated heartbeats are cut off immediately. Kei wakes up to the sound of whirring fans and Yamaguchi's teary whimpers. Befuddled, he opens his eyes slowly. What meets his gaze are scattered freckles and a distinct flash of orange locks.

"What the fuck happened?" Kei sits up, groggy. Surveying his surroundings, he cradles the sting piercing at the back of his head. 

His visitors collectively sigh in relief. 

"Thank god, I thought the spike killed you!" Hinata sits at his left, frisky hands gesturing wildly as he rambles on about volleyball injuries and some made-up percentage of death caused by said injuries.

"The nurse said you'd take a while to wake up." Tadashi is at his right, smile wobbly as he regards Kei's state with a sullen expression. Then he goes on to mumble about funerals and _oh my god how will Aki-san take the news_.

Kei groans at both of their incessant chatters. "Will you please stop acting like I almost died?" 

"Tsukishima is right." Asahi emerges from the background. He pats a hand on Kei's shoulders, his grip firmer. The boy seems close to crying himself. "He made it. How strong of you, Tsukishima."

Kei relents to their tomfoolery and replies flatly, "Thank you for the support. I wouldn't have survived it without all of you believing in me." 

His sardonic bow is expectedly mistaken for sincerity. Asahi-san sniffles at him, ignorant of the scorn in his tone. 

"I think Ushijima-kun deserves most of the credit though." 

Kei perks. "Ushijima?" 

Yamaguchi blinks at him. "I guess you didn't notice."

"Notice?" Kei parrots dumbly.

"Ushijima-kun carried you on his back and took you to the infirmary himself." Asahi explains. "Of course, I offered first but he was really insistent on doing it. He probably feels responsible."

"The spike was his?" Kei muses out loud. Suddenly, the ache in his head feels a little lighter. 

Hinata worsens it just by speaking again. " _Oi_? Why'd you look so happy about it? Say, Tsukishima, do you like Ushijima or something?"

Kei's expression is blank but his mind screams murder. "How you came up with that conclusion is beyond me. And to answer your question - _no_ , I do not like him."

The boy makes a sound akin to a confused mouse on helium. He furrows his brows, brows painted in fervid scrutiny, "Then why'd you keep clinging on to him and calling him master?"

"I - _what_?"

"You were latching on to him like a Koala. Takeda-sensei had to pull you away from the poor guy." 

Kei stills and searches for confirmation. He only finds Asahi sheepishly scratching on his chin and Yamaguchi evading his glances. Luckily, Kei is sharp enough to pick up on the cues. Unluckily, Kei is quick enough to realise he just committed another screw-up. 

"Fuck me." 

\- is the last Kei mutters before planting his face into the lethal grasp of the infirmary's pillows.

"Hey, who knows. Maybe Ushijima would take you up on the offer." 

Kei only realises Kageyama's existence when he hears the taunt echo in his ear. Kei effectively decides he hates Kageyama's voice.

* * *

Entry # 93:

Asahi-san is always gentle but I bet he's rougher during sex.

~~(I hope he's into spanking because I could really use the punishment right now)~~

* * *

The day Kei chooses to put his faith in the universe and hope for a miracle, the universe kicks him right in the ass to remind him of his infinitesimal, exceptionally unimportant significance. 

The day Kei chooses to play Cher's _Believe_ as he prays for good luck is the day Ushijima Wakatoshi comes moseying to his campus' gateway.

He doesn't know what to expect except a full, badly timed, unscripted moment of adversity.

"Tsukishima Kei, I would like to take you out for ice cream." Ushijima poses, eyes earnest but expression steely. His voice holds that same syrupy, savoury taste. It coils around Kei's limbs and renders him motionless. _Good god_ , the things a simple utterance can do to a person. 

"Me? For ice cream?" Kei clarifies the sum of the situation, barely unfazed. The crack of his sentence betrays his calm and collected facade. 

Ushijima notes his confusion with the slight arch of his brow. He points at Kei's head and continues, "As an apology. I heard you had a concussion because of me."

 _This one_. This rare bit of Universe's kindness in the works - is something Kei never expected. There's not a part of him that trusts the Universe favoured him enough to even offer him a modicum of it. 

"So you waited for me until practice?" 

The thought of someone patient enough to wait for him until 7pm baffles Kei. It also ruffles his heartrate. 

Ushijima shrugs like it's not a big deal. "I don't have your number. And I don't know who else to contact."

"Oh." Kei commands his complexion to remain pale. He clears a throat, grip tight on the strap of his bag. "I... _uhm_ , okay."

"Okay?" There's a tiny spark in the other's tone. Ushijima stands straighter, shoulders no longer hunched. 

"I mean I can't possibly refuse you after waiting that long." 

Ushijima bares him a small smile. "I guess so." 

The smile stays even as they cross the roads. They linger more by each step. Kei notices the awkward distance close, murmurs growing into chatters more flippant than the shy _yes_ and _no_ he'd mumbled at the start of the older's questions. 

Ushijima asks him about his favourite volleyball player. Typical, but Kei amuses him anyway and makes up some jumbled name to appease the older's curiosity. If the boy thought there isn't a Valvadi Joyce star player from Brazil, he was polite enough not to bring it up. 

"What about your favourite animal?"

Kei stops to contemplate. They're on their second ice cream now and his voice is getting croaky. "Chickens."

"That's unexpected."

Vanilla dribbles on his thumb. Kei licks it without thought. "Only because they're related to dinosaurs."

"Dinosaurs?"

"Yeah, well most birds are thought to be direct descendants of dinosaurs."

Ushijima hums at him as if profoundly interested. Kei does not know what to make of that gesture. But his chest sure is pumping wild.

"I'm not weird, by the way." Kei recants everything he's shared. "I'm not like Hinata or anything." _So please don't lump me in with them._

"Not at all," Ushijima assures. "I find you endearing, actually."

Kei's vanilla ice cream drops to the ground with a sound splat. " _Shit_ , s-sorry. Let me just -"

"Tissue?" Ushijima rummages in his pocket. He comes up emptyhanded. "Wait here, I'm going to buy you some."

"Hold on, wait, I can buy it myself -"

Ushijima doesn't heed to his calls and walks straight towards a nearby convenience store.

Kei follows the trail of his splattered ice cream and crouches inward. He thumps his reddened face to his knees, lungs scarce of oxygen.

"What..." What the hell was that? What the hell was all of that? Why is Ushijima a gentleman? Why is he so nice? If he were a girl, he'd really get the wrong idea. But he's gay and he's _reaally_ getting the wrong idea. It isn't fair. Ushijima shouldn't be this kind. Kei only fawned over him for his voice, now he's making his heart flutter with his personality - _how_ , how dare he?

"Tsukishima?" 

Kei jumps from his makeshift cocoon and faces Ushjima's concerned gaze. He approaches him in three easy strides, handing him a thin pack of tissue.

"Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah. Thanks by the way."

"Don't mention it." The boy searches for something in his pocket. Then, with a jingle, he presents a dinosaur keychain in front of Kei's sight. "I thought you might want one."

And if Kei wasn't already gay, he would be 100% gay now. He takes the keychain with the utmost care. Even as they part, the little dinosaur (though anatomically incorrect) chimes loudly to the fast-paced rhythm of his heart. Kei stops to inspect himself and concludes that he might have a heart problem.

"Fuck me."

 _If Ushijima insists_ , his moronic brain adds helpfully.

* * *

The day Kei chooses to forgo with hoping for a good week is the day the universe dunks him into cold water and decides to freeze his body until he perishes. Kei can vouch for himself that he's not being dramatic. And like a stray cat on the run from the ever meddlesome Animal Control, he mewls at the abrupt realisation of his _litter_. 

He remembers Sato, to put it simply. _The_ Sato he should've battered to death the other day. Witnesses or not. Kei is not a risktaker. But for Sato, he will be. And he means that in the least romantic way possible.

"Seemed like a nice guy." Fukatuchi freely intrudes his bubble of gloom without remorse.

"He just announced to the whole Miyagi that you and I are dating."

Kei hears shuffling from the other line and imagines Fatkuchi shrugging nonchalantly. "Well, that's what you told him. So it's kind of your fault."

"Me?" Kei's face sours. He huffs in disbelief and clutches his phone, "I didn't think he had half the brain cells to spread the news! How did the information even get there?!"

"Beats me. Probably said it to a friend who told it to their friend who must have slipped and revealed it to the team."

"Wait." Kei sits up. "You think your team is responsible for the spread?"

"Don't talk about it like it's a virus," Futakuchi grumbles. "And I don't know, I'm just guessing. Some of the members of our team are not really the best at keeping secrets."

"It's Koganegawa, isn't it?" Fukatuchin doesn't speak but his still silence is clear. Kei shuts his eyes and counts his breath. "That damn Pikachu."

"Probably should have assessed the situation before spouting, ya know?" Futakuchi suggests calmly. "The news came at such a bad time, I was about to ask a girl out for a date this Sunday."

Guilt quickly prickles at Kei's stomach. He nibbles on his lips, eyes diffident as he feels the turmoil in his mind double. Sighing brokenly, he begins, "Listen. I'm really sorry." _Again_ , it goes unsaid. "I fucked up. I didn't mean to drag you into this mess, I just -"

"You panicked and made up another lie?" 

Kei slumps. "Yes." 

He hears Futakuchi sigh back. It's softer, less catty. "I'm not gonna pretend that the situation doesn't suck, but if he's bothering you this much I don't mind helping out a little bit. If you want, I could act as your boyfriend until we're sure baldie's finally given up on you."

"But your date-"

"Eh, I can manage a month without going out with another girl." Futakuchi solaces. "Besides, I'm actually getting more fangirls now that they found out I'm _'happily taken'._ Apparently, gay guys are a treasure amongst the ladies."

Kei scoffs fondly. "Only you would be okay with that." Then, fiddling with his sleeves, "Are sure you want this?"

Futakuchi chuckles huskily. It stirs something in Kei. His voice is not near his ideal but it still warms Kei's cold fingers. 

"You're not that bad." The older says. "If I were gay I could totally see myself hitting on you."

The warmth seethes into his bones. Kei stammers a reply, "T-that's -!"

"Anyway, we can talk more about the fake details this Sunday. Don't worry about it too much." 

"Thank you." Kei loudens his volume. "You're a lifesaver."

"I know." There's a pause before the older speaks, "And Tsukishima?"

Kei straightens himself out of instinct, breath apace. "Yeah?"

"Have a good sleep, _babe_."

And with that, he ends the call. Kei spends his evening gawking at the black of his phone screen. Blue Swede's _Hooked on a Feeling_ resonates around his ceilings. The high, exuberant notes ricochet off his walls. Without noticing, Kei finds himself dancing foolishly to the beat, eyes alight and body flushed.

The tips of his fingers tremble and though contrived, he senses electricity course through his veins.

Kei does not have the slightest bit of idea for what he's feeling but he's just happy he feels it.

He's _hooked_ on it.

* * *

The gay train is still running. Someone got in without permission. Oh well, two's better than one right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was only aiming for a 3k word count but whews, didn't think i had it in me to go for 5,
> 
> anygay, i rec listening to the songs kei uses to describe his feeling, might make this fic more tolerable at least lol


	4. word(s) of the day: hectic romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You gave your nudes to a total stranger?"
> 
> "I wasn't that naked." Kei poutily bristles. To be fair, he still had a shirt on for most of the takes. So he had only been partially naked. By all technicalities, he was not nude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the long inactivity, now that break is here, i feel much more productive. it's good to be writing again :>
> 
> further apologies for any overlooked errors, pls do enjoy and have a good read <3

Entry # 230:

Tanaka-san should rail me.

There. I said it.

* * *

_"How about waiting shed lovers?"_

Kei suppresses an obnoxious snort for fear of gaining unwanted attention. Considering his most meddlesome teammates are nearby, he anticipates the worst. Still, with the unabating buzz of his fellow first-years and the ever irksome second-year idiot twins ( and he says twins because Nishinoya and Tanaka could very well be one person with how much their idiosyncracies sync together) - Kei likes to think he's faring much better than the average introverted populace.

His senses are remarkably adept when within the vicinity of wackos. And he has an astute hunch for any foreboding threat that makes him minimally immune to their catastrophic antics. Coupled with the occasional cognizant glances he keeps on taking when responding to Futakuchi's calls, Kei's chances of being interrogated are close to a _5 -_ out of 90, that is.

One can never be sure with gremlins on the loose. Kei is resolutely certain Takeda-sensei has thought once or twice about putting a leash on them. He wouldn't shame the older man if he dares to. After all, ethical considerations are damned when rational minds are spent (a feat only inexplicable deviants would be aptly capable of).

_"I need helpful inputs here, darling. Lying requires more brain cells than I thought."_

Futakuchi's demand for attention eradicates the lingering musings Kei has of the zany cacophonies around him. He whips his head just as swiftly as the clearing of his throat, the bare expanse of collarbones protruding with a pop.

Kei covers the lagging silence with his signature sneer. "Meet-cute during a heavy downpour? We don't even ride the same bus - I don't even need to ride one to get home."

_"Fine then, convenience store meet-cute?"_

He slams his locker shut at the mention of a store. Pulling on the seams of his black shorts, Kei pins the phone to his ears and breathes more warily.

"Not that." The younger says. _That's reserved for Ushijima_ , his mind betrays.

_"You know, this whole boyfriend thing can't work if you keep rejecting all of my propositions."_

"Your propositions suck." Kei rebuts easily. He has his shorts tightened around his waist, the dips of his hips accentuated by the trace of a thin white shirt. Peering furtively, Kei dares a pose at the obscure mirror that hangs on the far left corner of the room. _Hot stuff_ , he compliments himself.

For a second, he imagines his reflection winking back. A silly habit no one will ever know of, Kei ascertains. And if someone does, Kei is ready to go on a murder spree.

 _"Stop letting your mind go off on tangents,"_ Futakuchi warns him as if having seen through his thoughts.

Kei returns the reproach with a snark of his own. "I don't get why you're so hellbent on this. Can't you just keep it simple? Boy meets boy. They talk. They find out they're both gay. They decide to go on a merry date, fall in love, go on more merry dates - you know, the typical _blah blah blah._ "

"Absolutely not." Futakuchi's inflection is posh and catty. "I don't do simple."

"Well, aren't you romantic." Kei contributes, wry like the scalding summer. For a straight man who basks in fantasies of dry hetero sex, Futakuchi sure brandishes himself as a flamboyant member of the other team. It would probably explain why he's had more luck with men than women. Peculiarities could be a very tricky thing.

 _"Shush. I'm trying to think of a good story. It has to have my charm in it or else it'll be boring - like you."_ He adds the last bit with emphasis, needlessly coquettish.

Kei does not evade the taunt. His spiteful tone is sharp and jagged, a mumble of murderous intent. "You know, sometimes I think you're the gay one in this relationship."

 _"Stereotypes, Stereotypes, babe~"_ Futakuchi tuts playfully. _"So how about-"_

"TSUKISHIMA!"

A perfectly-timed bellow reverberates through the air and meanders into Kei's ears. Its hoarseness bombards him into whipping his head to the call, but the edge of it is fleeting that it leaves him planted still on his spot by the locker's corner. 

Kei lets the rustle of his clothes resound, hold loose on his phone as he eyes Tanaka's approaching figure. In the dim lightings, he almost seems like a predatory shadow.

"Hold on, I hear an idiot's beckons." The volume of his voice amps that it elicits a vein on his senior's temple. Nodding stiffly, he motions for the older to wait.

 _"Was that tough baldy?"_ Futakuchi snickers.

Kei hums in affirmation, "I gotta go. I'll talk to you later."

The older makes a noise akin to a disbelieving squawk. Judging by the dramatic drop of his tone, Kei only assumes he's holding him off by stalling.

_"Wha - is he more important than me, Tsukki? Do you want us to have our first fight? Because this is how first fights begin -"_

Without a hitch, the younger ends the call. His tap on the button is abrupt, the chimes fading into a string of pathetic whines. Kei stares at his black screen for good measure before he welcomes Tanaka's company.

"What?" He grouchily greets. One glance at the older's eyes has Kei noting the stark mischief. Already, he anticipates the mayhem he's brought with him.

"Now, now~ don't be stingy, you gangly bamboo stick." The mayhem, it appears, is Nishinoya's small stature bounding towards him for a quick hug. With the disparity in height, he only manages to dangle on Kei's shoulders.

Kei makes the instantaneous choice to shrug off the other's weight. Even when small, he is heavier than him. How and why he makes that possible is simply a skill only his enigmatic existence bears. And it is beyond Kei's comprehension to even fathom the strength of his deadly headlocks. 

To his surprise, Tanaka is more than willing to help him out of his predicament. 

"Don't kill him yet, Yuu. Gotta need our mediator alive, remember?" The older lands a firm grasp on Nishinoya's shoulders, face stern but devious. 

Nishinoya heeds to his request and swiftly frees Kei from the lock of his bent arm. " _Ah_ , right, right! We can't have him damaging his slick brain for this one." 

Kei straightens out of instinct and tips his slanted glasses back into balance. He squints, the peak of his intuition blaring at him to mind the wrinkled paper in Tanaka's hands. 

"What do you want?" As if preparing himself for battle, Kei's shifts his stance into defence. The grace of his posture wanes, set to recoil at the barest hint of a prank. 

Tanaka bares him his razor-sharp grin. His feet sway in elation, the crack of rustling paper smiting the wind as he forces something into Kei's sight.

The first Kei notices are the jingles of two-dimensional boobs. His being internally cringes at the offence that oozes from its covers. 

"What do you think?"

"What do I think of _what_?" Kei holds back the ominous screech in his tone. 

"Sexy poses!" Nishinoya snatches the magazine in Tanaka's hand. His eyes are wide, teeming with an ardency that beleaguers the younger to no end. Bless these shameless heterosexuals. 

Kei sighs and swerves to the separate direction of Tanaka's side-embrace. His glide is perfect. It elicits an instinct demanding of faster reactions to the older's persistent attacks. Finally, they reach a standstill and Kei is free of unwanted contact.

"So?" He asks, aloof and disinterested. "What about them?"

His apathy is deflected by one of Nishinoya's conniving harrumphs. With the brisk poke of his fingertips, he turns to a page and points at two images. 

It flashes a full portrait of girls in bikinis with minimal coverage on their bosoms, arms folded and legs extended in suggestive modesty. One is a blonde, the other a brunette. They each monopolize a page of their own, set to look as if they are in a heated battle of who's more and better. With how they have their backs turned away from one another, Kei only assumes the photographer had aimed for a rival-concept. _Oh look_ , the brand of the toothpaste product is there too - at the far back, close to the frame's end, endorsing itself by lying still and unused. 

_Huh_ , and here Kei thought the magazine was of a different genre altogether. 

"Left has a better pose right?" Nishinoya nudges his ribs. "The shy arch of her shoulders really makes her more angelic!"

"No, no, no!" Tanak objects brashly. He steals the paper from the other's flimsy grasp and taps the blonde model on the left. His voice is full, prepared to preach of his passion for beautiful women as if he could not be more straightforward about it. "It's confidence! It's all about confidence. See how she flips her wavy hair? She could slap me with those wispy locks all day and I wouldn't mind."

Kei at least comprehends that. The woman is attractive. A conventional beauty, but a beauty nonetheless. He can admire a girl's face as much as he can admire boys', but it never extends beyond that. 

Gingerly, he voices his comments, "They're...okay."

Nishinoya appears unsatisfied by it. He baulks, fervid. " _Okay_? Just okay? Really?"

"What else do you want me to say?" Kei grumbles through bated breaths. To his misfortune, he was not able to parry Tanaka's firm grip. An arm slithers around his neck, heavy and unrestrained. Kei swallows down a squeak, the pressure on his throat much too pleasurable to resist. He can't help he's into choking. 

Tanaka is oblivious to all of it. He begins his preaching, gesturing with his other hands as he talks, like an animated father about to teach his son the illustrious wonders of the world. To be frank, and he means absolutely and truthfully frank - Kei wouldn't mind calling him daddy.

"What about the legs, the way they tilt their head, the sultry look in their eyes as they gaze at you, lips pursed, soft and rosy a- _and_! The glistening skin, the thin cloth stuck to their -"

"Tanaka-san." Kei deadens his voice. "You're drooling on my shoulder."

The older only sags, sigh dreamy and unapologetic. "Anyway, that's why it's important you side with me on this one. It's clear Miku-chan did it better."

"Actually, you're wrong." Nishinoya tuts. "Miku-chan is a goddess and all but Mari-chan bested her here."

" _Actually_ ," Tanaka sweetens his inflection but his forehead is creased into a scowl. "You're wrong. Miku-chan ranks first. No doubt."

Ruffled, Nishinoya grits his teeth and grinds them in hostile displeasure. There is a vein above his furrowed brows, throbbing and slightly gleaming from the sheen of the lights. 

"You-"

Before he could squawk and babble about the supposed blunder of his companion's judgement, Kei decidedly chooses to escape then. He reigns over their noise with a cursory slide to the centre, hastening his pace until he is far enough to not heed the olders' echoes. He spares them a glimpse and catches Nishinoya chomping on the taller's hand. Kei does not falter even when he hears Tanaka's rueful wails of surrender, no doubt having seen enough.

"Did they harass you too?" Yamaguchi greets him sheepishly. The timid shake of his fingers tells Kei the boy might have amused the duo a tad too longer than he'd preferred. He sends his friend a pitying look - a rare display of his feeble empathy.

"I don't get why they even bother." Kei wrinkles his nose. "Not like I make a habit of fawning over that stuff." 

He owns a different type of magazines. The ones that usually include boys in them. Boobs are cool, no qualms about it. But there's nothing innately majestic about them. They're lumps glued to your chest. If Kei were straight he wouldn't leer at them, and he certainly wouldn't be particular about their sizes. 

"Straight people confuse me." He muses, thoughtless. 

Tadashi giggles, unsure as he scratches his cheeks in contemplation. "I guess some are simple-minded to the point of ambiguity."

Kei sits himself on the floor and begins to stretch. Tipping his toes forward and extending his fingertips, he casts the bickering seniors counted glances. 

"Those two seem to be very exceptional at that." He adds, utterly unaffected. 

Whatever banter was wreaking havoc in the gym soon turned dull by the eager footsteps of Takeda-sensei's late arrival.

* * *

In truth, Kei is not as definitively unaffected as he proclaimed himself to be. When he had gone home that night, he had, in the most unwitting manner, inscribed in his mind a pesky idea. An idea, that at first wasn't harmful then - just a manageable inconvenience. So he went on his blissful, ignorant way not wallowing too much in it. He had initially thought nothing serious of their whimsical lure and only deemed the inconvenience a minor distraction.

But now he stands before his mirror, the insipid gears in his brain once again advocating the devil's work. Kei would be lying if he can confidently say he understands himself and the majority of his decisions. Most of the time he barely mulls over half of his actions. Sometimes, he thinks he is as unfathomable as Hinata - and the possibility of that terrifies him. 

He's in his flimsy shirt now. Oversize and loose on the collars. He wears the skimpiest of his black shorts, a leather choker around his neck and cherry, glossed lips. The pair of pink, high knee socks he has on his milky legs makes him doubly cognizant of his surroundings. Kei knows he's locked his door right. The curtains too, though thin under the illumination of the moon, has covered his thin bedroom walls well.

He is secured from unwanted intrusion but he finds his safety _vulnerable_. Something or someone could sneak into his room and catch him doing unspeakable things - by unspeakable he clearly meant acting in the most un- _stingyshima_ way. A category that includes picturing yourself dressed in pastel pink and pretty glitters. And, also includes yourself posing in the sluttiest possible way with the cutesy background of your filtered camera, miles and miles more provocative than the magazines his seniors had shown him.

Kei even has the modest concept perfected - a remarkable imitation of Miku-chan the blonde. He juts his hips right, head on a shy tilt, accentuated by the low dangle of his v-neck shirt, paired with the teasing rise of it well above his thighs - the trace of his bum and the peeking bareness between where the shirt ends and the socks begin. 

Dear god, he's done it now. He's gone insane.

And as if commited to humiliating himself more, he even gets the gall to send it to his nameless contact. He types the number by memory, sure to have it engraved into his mind by now. He has it memorised as Futakuchi, but the older does not need to know Kei hasn't bothered naming it as. 

_(Tsukishima Kei sent a picture)_

_thoughts on sexy pics?_

seen 3:50 am

He waits a few good moments. 

Time passes and the message is still only read. But Kei is confident Futakuchi would not be too insufferable about his teasing once he comes across it. As much at it pains Kei to admit it, he trusts Futakuchi enough to disclose a part of himself like this. 

The sense of freedom it gives him is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. He twists in his sheets just at the slightest feel of it. 

The thing about being open to a person is that it's both a blessing and a curse. Blessing, because Kei now has someone to torment with his horny musings - or as he often fancily calls it, delusional debauchery. And curse, because Kei is too trusting of his feral hormones that he freely admits everything from the _get-go_.

Kei likes to think Futakuchi is a trustworthy person. He hasn't talked to any other person more openminded than the older. And _dear_ , was Futakuchi one talented boy. He has a god-tier skill for ranking hot men. It's not as exemplary as Kei's ten-pages worth of list, but for a straight man, Futakuchi is hundreds above average. Interestingly enough, he has wiser inputs than Kei's last remaining brain cells combined – _and_ , he's the only person Kei doesn't mind mentally scarring with his spongebob roleplay fantasies. If anything, Futakuchi seemed immensely entertained by them.

As his mother always tells him, if a person is willing to listen to him twitter about cosplaying as sponge characters - then he is sure to bank on their friendship. Either that or the person has a questionable wit. 

So Kei waits. Patiently. He does not think twice of his pose. He knows he's done better than most models. But he does think a little too much on the number he's sent it to. Futakuchi wasn't one to reply belatedly. It's his tradition to bother Kei from 8pm onwards. And he's never been late for more than a minute. 

Kei quells his pacing and checks his phone again. It pings just in time for Kei to huff in relief and scroll through the messages.

_Nice legs, could use some more butt-exposure._

_also, your angle's a little awkward. still pretty tho ;)_

_Huh_. That was weird. This is the first Futakuchi has blatantly complimented him. Kei squints his eyes as he types.

_Did something happen today? You're nicer._

_Nah. Your man's prolly still a douche. I think you just got the wrong number._

Kei feels his lungs constrict. He falls to his bed, harsh and painful. He checks the number and sees a bold, misplaced _9_ at the end. 

He bangs his head on the pillow before smothering his face with it. Dragged to the abysmal hole of his perpetual doom, Kei could only scream at his cushion's fluffy feathers. 

"Curse you _nines_." 

The phone chimes along to his sulking. Kei peeks at it out of curiosity.

_Bet ya I could treat you better than him._

He frowns at the text.

_What makes you think it's a him?_

_Come on. Pastel pink? Cherry lips. Y_ o _u don't really assume something like that would be sent to a girl._

 _You're too much of a twink to go after them anyway._ _But I mean, some might be into that._

_So who knows, maybe I'm wrong._

_Nice observations, detective._

Keisends it with a hiss.

_So I am right._

_By the way, you send your sexy pics to a stranger and the first thing you ask is that?_

_Someone's got their priority skewed._

Feeble fingers hover over the screen. Perhaps Kei is being too impulsive. But he figures there's not much to decipher in a brain that's barely working right. He also figures he has embarrassed himself too many times now that he is numbed by the aftermath of it. 

So Kei stalls, ruminative. The polished glint of his manicured nails taps, little by little, until Kei finds himself typing back. The worst that could happen is if the number ends up being one of his cousins'. Or _worse_ , Sato's. Considering he's pretty much denied of good karma, Kei proceeds to obliterate his life.

_Fuck it._

_I'm too used to dumb shit happening to me._

_Now tell me what's wrong with my picture._

In his defence, Kei thinks he's got one priority set straight. 

_Not even gonna ask my name?_

_No pleasantries?_

_Aren't you scared you might be talking to a serial killer?_

Kei nibbles on his lips. 

_Are you?_

_Well, no. I'm still too young, I can't afford a jailtime. My mother would kill me._

He perks at the detail and even snorts. Here he was, being chided for being too gullible when the other is just as reckless with his words.

_What are you, a middel schooler?_

_Ha, right on the mark. ; >_

_Alright, goodbye then._

_Hey, I'm kidding._

_I'm probably older than you._

Kei arches his brows at that. Ah yeah, he forgot about the more gruesome dangers of conversing online.

_Delete my pictures. Or I'm calling the police._

Immediately, his phone twitters with a string of simultaneous texts.

_Not that old, blondie._

_Maybe a year or two._

_Guessing from your face, you must be a first-year in high school._

_Technically, we're both minors here._

Old or not, the stranger still creeps him out. He's mostly right about everything that Kei is beginning to think he might just be texting Sato. But then again, Sato has a less fancy vocabulary when it comes to other things than overly romantic compliments. And his praises are often laden with lengthy adjectives that amount to nonsensical idioms. Besides his unbearable punchlines, Sato's investigative skills are barely adequate. He does get lucky with his hunches sometimes, Kei will give him that. 

_Are you a stalker?_

_Did you hack my phone number and looked through my personal files?_

Can hackers even do that? Kei pauses to mull over the likelihood of that. 

_So I'm right again?_

_Either I have a stellar intuition or you're just too easy._

_So which is it?_

He asks it with an earnest tone. It sounded hopeful even. And Kei thinks it might just be a coincidence, but somehow, the stranger seemed to have picked up on the insecure trust that laid in between the spaces of his letters.

_I'm just a good detective._

_If it makes you feel better, I can send you pictures of my face._

_Sounds like a fair deal, ain't it?_

_How do I know you're not using a fake photo?_

_I could video call you._

_Want me to?_

Kei admires the commitment. But,

_You could still be a serial killer._

_I told you, the only time I'll ever be one is if I'm willing to die by my mother's hands._

_That old hag's one hell of a parent. I'm just a well-raised son._

_But hey, you don't have to reply to me. I don't mind._

_If I were you, I would have stopped at the third message._

The younger toys with the indents of his knuckles, a habit he does when he's utterly convinced and partly conflicted. He could do that. He could ignore the number, hope the stranger erases all records of his pictures and never talk to him again. Kei could even ask his brother's hacker friends for a favour to resolve the problem. The way Kei sees it, he only has two routes to choose from. The first is a path to a new, budding friendship - one filled with enjoyable banter and helpful modelling tips. The second is a more appalling path to the horror/thriller genre where his only ending is being cast as a dead body in a low-budget documentary about unwise victims.

He advances straight towards the left and prays it's the first one.

_So what's wrong with my pose?_

Three dots wiggle before _ding_ , Kei seals his fate.

_Let's start with the black shorts._

Three hours later, Kei learns the importance of angled chins and sultry glares. The arched pouts. The chaste slip of thin shirts. The demeaning smirks. Things that go along with his shitty disposition.

His gallery is filled with trials, less filtered and better authentic as advised. He doesn't send them of course, purely out of respect for the remaining bits of wisdom left in him. He is sure he is safe, the boy - as he finally introduced himself as, had repeatedly allowed him an escape. Kei had not retreated at every chance given. Just because he felt there wasn't a need for one. 

Suna. His name was Suna. Second-year. Inarazaki High. Plays volleyball and gossips for fun. A handsome man, Kei must admit. He'd been sent pictures to appease any lingering worries in Kei. When he'd first glimpsed at the first one, all worries had been easily thrown out off the window. Kei is aware it's a poor and fickle display of judgement.

Three hours later and they are still talking. Far beyond camera tricks and good angling.

Three hours later and Kei has just about revealed every trivial detail about himself. Even the ones Yamaguchi doesn't know of. Suna has done the same. If not more. Kei can't recall a time where they have not teased each other about their favourite things. Their colour. The perfumes they like. The people they both abhor and love to make fun of. The pets that they wish to have in the future. Tiny, nonsensical chatters that people have not asked Kei about.

Kei can't recall ever resting at all.

Oh well, sleep is for the weak.

* * *

Entry #123:

Top dildos to buy yourself this Christmas:

1\. A real dick.

* * *

"Why are we in a circle?"

Kei eyes his teammates. They are sat at the centre of the gym, legs folded and frigid under the sweeping whoosh of frosted breeze. Across him is his captain, the ever-reliable Sawamura with his arms folded and lips pulled into a tense, thin line. 

"Well, _Tsukishima_..." Sawamura clears his throat. He tips his chin downward as he regards Kei with a stare, uncharacteristically hesitant. The older sounds every bit unsure as his furrowed brows. Teeth tucked into a cringing smile, he exhales a heavy breath. "I-it has come to my - _our_ attention that you may have not been sharing us something we ought to know about."

The younger frowns, befuddled. "Since when have you been entitled to know shit about my personal business?"

Nishinoya clicks his tongue and raises his finger. Thinning the pitch of his tone, he sasses Kei with the subtle shake of his head. 

"Since forever," comes the reply, obnoxious and nasally. "When are you going to tell us that you're dating Date Tech's captain, hm? _Hmmm_?"

"He's dating that Futakuchi guy?" From the far left, Kei hears the hitch of breath. Kinnoshita is rubbing his temple, shaken. Ennoshita is more furtive, patting the boy on his back and murmuring, _"I thought you knew. Everyone was freaking out about it in the locker room."_

These people did not even have an ounce of remorse in them for prying into his life. He surmises news does travel fast. Still, Kei supposes it's only fair to avenge his privacy. He makes a mental note of buying fake snakes. The date will be next week, just when the club is tired and sore to care about keeping their lockers safe and secured. 

"So what if I am?" Kei dares back. His posture is straight, chest out and chin high. "Why do I have to tell you about it?"

"I figured you might say that." Sugawara sighs, fond but exasperated. "That's why we each prepared a letter. It contains our deeply-rooted feelings about how much we value you - and how much we deserve to be valued in return."

 _Oh_ , Kei knows what the older is doing. And he does not like it one bit. " _Don't_ guilt-trip me."

"You have no say in this." Tanaka tuts smugly. "This is an intervention."

Yamaguchi shifts beside him, the rustle of paper feebly resounding. "Sorry, Tsukki. I think it's time you conceded. I've been your friend for so long and you've yet to tell me about your boyfriend. Are we even friends?" 

The boy whispers his last sentence with a dramatic drop to his tone, almost like a tearful crack. He sounds close to fuming and crying at the same time. To others, he looks betrayed. But Kei knows he's the one being betrayed right now. No one does the guilt-tripping act better than Yamaguchi.

"We no longer are." Kei deadpans. 

Tanaka gasps, ever the theatrical actor. "This! This is exactly why we need this intervention. You are breaching the grounds of friendship, young man. You owe us a whole lot of explanation."

Without meaning to, Kei turns to his last resort. He looks past Hinata's busy crouching, the boy having yet to finish his supposed letter. Kei already guesses his is filled with complains about his behaviour. 

"Are you really going to be a part of this?" He stares at Kageyama dead in the eyes.

Kageyama shrugs at him, pure joy plastered all over his face. 

"Sounds like a fun way to torment you." He says. He moves to adjust his position on the hardwood floor. In a lax, nonchalant fashion, he brings out a paper from his pocket. It's wrinkled and frayed on the edges, the ink damp on the sides. 

"Now let's start with my letter first." Kageyama's paper unfolds from his lazy grasp. In a monotonous volume, he begins, "Dear Tsukishima. I feel as though you have been very insufferable these past few days..."

Kei has to pinch himself to avoid screeching like a madman and tackling Tobio to the cold, rough ground. 

Instead, he opts to swing his left shoe at the other.

It unfortunately lands on Hinata's unsuspecting head.

The rest of the damned intervention runs smoothly after that.

* * *

"You gave your nudes to a total stranger?"

Kei listens to the crunch his boots makes on the trail of parched leaves. His fingers clench around the metal brim of his phone, ears jostled awake to meet Futakuchi's nags.

"I thought you'd be thrilled by this silly story." He says it in a wry, bland tone as if to portray himself unbothered. In all honesty, he's a bit fretful he might have done the wrong move by sharing with the older all about his fiasco-turned-happy-engagement. 

The other line scoffs at him in disbelief. "What part should I be thrilled about? Youaccidentally sending naked pictures of yourself - _or_ you intentionally doing it again?"

"I wasn't _that_ naked." Kei poutily bristles. To be fair, he still had a shirt on for most of the takes. So he had only been _partially_ naked. By all technicalities, he was not nude.

"What do you mean _that_?" Futakuchi's breathing is levelled but his volume is livid. "Listen. You're smart. You should know by now that just because a boy sent you his picture, it can't cause for any concern. Hell, you should cut off contact while it's still early or -"

"He's a good guy. And since when have you cared so intently about my business?" The younger harrumphs. Perhaps he shouldn't have said anything about the whole matter at all. Futakuchi didn't seem to enjoy the happenstance as much as he did. 

The static noise screeches as a forewarning. Kei's stomps are heavy now, petulant as he crushes the wilting orange reeds crowding around his soles. 

"It started when you forcibly stuck your tongue down my throat." Futakuchi's words rumble, flat - near the brink of a snark. "Your business is my business now. Most especially when you're being this impulsive."

Kei indulges at the small thump of his heart before he discards all emotion for the sake of his pride. "It's not like we're really dating." 

He says it with a careful lilt. A piece of him is ashamed of the sentence, lips chewed in a downcast and guilt-ridden retreat. He hears the other end breathe out a laugh. It's stifled and awkward. Kei thinks he's heard a biting wilt at the edge of it. 

"Yeah," Futakuchi replies, an unreadable mumble. "You're right. Sorry for prying in. Just... be careful, okay?"

"Futakuchi-san -" 

The line ends with a deafening beep. Kei ganders at his screen for a long minute before they fade to black. Abrupt. Unanswered. At the forefront of his mind evinces a mini-phantom of himself. It squeaks and scolds at him, pronouncing himself as a manifestation of Kei's guilt. His insect-like imitation flitters about in a disparaging sort of way. He carries with him a weapon of punishment - a squishy little hammer represent the sinking feeling of regret in his system. And also to bat his inconsideration with. 

Kei arrives home without any messages from the older. His loud absence continues on until midnight, when Kei is packing his bag late for training camp. And after pacing back and forth, ankles chafed from the tight bands of his socks, he decides to suck it up and send the boy a message.

_I'm sorry._

If Futakuchi still persists on not replying, Kei would leave him be for now. Dear god, it feels a bit like _real_ lover's quarrel. But he doesn't think Futakuchi should be offended by that. They have made it resolutely clear it was all pretence. The boy surely isn't displeased by that, is he? 

Quaint light beams from the lonely surface of his screen. Kei keeks through the lump of clothes on his bed and sees no notifications from the older. 

He grumbles and pads his feet to his closet. Fine then, let the both of them be petty.

Kei has Suna to converse with anyway. The boy can give him plenty of attention. 

_Are you there?_

_Yeah, what's up?_

_I need entertainment. Maybe your weekly gossips can give me some._

_Alright. Wanna hear about what dumb and dumber did this morning?_

Kei attentively reads Suna's barrage of cackling texts.

He doesn't think for a second about the slight sting in his chest when he realises Futakuchi left him on read. 

* * *

Morrow marks the day of the _2000th_ time Kei has heard the Weather Girls belt out the chorus of raining men. And Kei, ever the committed fella, celebrates out of sheer admiration for their preachings. 

Truly, Mother Nature is blessed.

Not a minute passes and Kei already surveys at least 7 to 10 young, attractive boys near his vicinity. Sure they're volleyball fanatics who still put volleyball above all reason, but Kei figures he doesn't mind gawking at them for superficial justifications. Though, he's glad that part of the crowd hosts a fair, minimal population of intelligent ones. The revelation of their existence has Kei jerking and shifting in contained excitement. 

He just hopes there's a crowd for gays to talk to. Lord knows how much he's been denied of colourful company. And he very well deserves it now that he's achieved his _2000th_ quota. After the many, many screw-ups he had been subjected to suffer for most of his life, Kei thinks it is only fair the universe gives him this one.

 _Just one_. Kei desperately needs just one chance to find the perfect romance. Considering he's got a bigger population to seek from, Kei feels that the training camp is the first place to find it. 

And his inkling is proven right when not even an hour later, he meets the prince that once existed only in his cinematic illusions - sparkling with his sharp eyes, kind smile, and straight posture, clad in the scent of royalty, painted like a charming gentleman and dipped in a graceful flair the size of Oikawa's ego. 

Kei doesn't even need to exaggerate when Akaashi's presence speaks for itself alone. And he's only interacted with the boy for 10 seconds. 

One gaze from him is like a trek to dreamland. It's like love at first glance, and everything about it makes him giddy inside out. Kei feels it. He just _feels_ it. Akaashi is _the one._

Kei only pleads Mother Nature has given him a blessing that isn't as straight as the beanpole stuck up Kagayema's ass.

He also pleads the training camp will give ample time for the romance he so gravely craves. 

* * *

Entry # 235:

Not to be straight or anything but,

Yachi’s smile was cute today. She should do it more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am more than sure i have butchered the pacing of this story. but i quite like the absurdity of it anyway kekekke


	5. word(s) of the day: holy town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama is quick to dissuade his growing reluctance. He holds the guitar in his hands, certain and steady like he's performed in front of a crowd a million times before. "Listen, it's just one song. You sing, I play and this shit will be over before they even get the chance to taunt us." 
> 
> Kei furrows his brows, partly persuaded. "They're still going to mock us after."
> 
> His teammate smugly grins at him. Seamlessly, he strums a couple of complicated notes on the strings. "Not if we give 'em a good show. If we do well, they can't tease us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please refer to this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X5G9tIe84lE for the singing part :>
> 
> i hope you a good read and also, happy, happy new year to everyone! <3 pls forgive me for any overlooked errors.

Mother nature, as it turns out, is a bitch. A cold-blooded, contemptuous, nasty bitch.

Kei should have known. He should have known Mother Nature will not give him anything. No one chance or pretty boys or happy, merry dates to the art museums. Or ice cream dates, beach dates, theatre dates - dates that leave Kei skittish and woozy and electrified all at once, doused in the aroma of a budding romance.

But _nooo_. Kei will not have any of that.

It all started when Hinata was born. Okay, maybe Kei is being dramatic. In truth, it only started about half an hour ago, when Kei had the misfortune of slipping into a tricky step and Akaashi-san - dearest Akaashi - _the holy epitome of heaven's temptation_ \- san had only taken a few seconds to catch him before his fall. He had Kei locked in place then, the boy secured in the safe embrace of his veiny, _veiny_ hands. Love was there, Kei recalls. Love was everywhere, sprinkling itself over their heads like cupid's rainbow piss - perfectly arched and ready to shoot an arrow to the heart.

But then Hinata, ever the natural destructor of Kei's dreams and reveries, decided to spew out a shit-ton about Kei's private life like it was his business– neither an ounce of fear nor cognizance for the threat his actions entailed. Really, Kei should have expected that. He should have expected Hinata to somehow, by some intricate and meticulously-woven web of events (blessed by dumb luck and stupid, _stupid_ providence), let slip that Kei is not interested in anybody at the moment. To the whole gym. The _WHOLE_ gym. Which sadly includes Akaashi-san.

And by consequence - it now _excludes_ him. Because life is a transparent bitch. So is romance. Kei is starting to believe he's living the wrong genre.

That isn't worst of it though. After damning his love life to a horrible non-existent fate, Hinata (equipped by a monumental gall Kei cannot, for the life of him, fully grasp) had raised a triumphant thumb to his direction and announced himself Kei's saviour. He claimed his actions to be, supported by irrational thinking (far from reasonable truth)– _"An honourable gesture to shoo the pests away."_

Of course, Hinata thought wrongly. His self-proclaimed act of chivalry is indefinitely skewed (and Kei emphasizes his use of _is_ , because Hinata's judgement is and always will be indefinitely skewed). The Curse of Hinata is not a myth, it lives to torture Kei. 

The boy had beamed at him so brightly Kei couldn't see where his elbow supposed its landing. It unfortunately hit Lev square to the face. 

After brisk seconds of apologising and bristling at Hinata and Bokuto's heinous cackles – now flaunted to the world as a _disinterested man_ (Kei likes to take liberties and believes himself a _man_ stuck in a 16-year-old boy's hormonal body) - Kei comes to the sound conclusion that he will not have any summer romance today, nor will he have one tomorrow, the next and most possibly _forever_. 

Again, a bit of an exaggeration, but screw it. Kei is mad. Mother Nature does not deserve his faith. And Hinata should suffer a long, painful misery. Except not really because Kei still has a tinge of goodness in his black, wicked heart. So perhaps just a year's worth of bad karma would do.

"Your face will get wrinkly if you keep poutin' like that." Kuroo Tetusurou intrudes his bubble of murder and devilry with just the gruff drawl of his voice. 

Kei peers at the older and thinks he's got his own set of karma to deal with now that he's dragged out of his musings. He touches his face out of impulse and deepens his scowl. Kuroo flashes him a grin, triumphant. 

"It's my natural expression." Kei defends anyway, flat and malignant. He is not about to give the boy another win. The older has been pestering him all day and Kei is yet to get the upper hand on their little banter-game.

"That doesn't sound right." Kuroo frowns to show disagreement. Crouching, he places himself right to Kei's left. They're hidden near one of the gym's well-lit corner, metres away from the ruckus of Lev and Hinata's heated conversation. They still haven't settled on the eggs-first-or-chicken debate and Bokuto is not making things easier to placate the mess of their arguments.

Kei scoffs at their immaturity like a sage of the greater species. He humours the older, much too unruffled by the disorder in front of them. "What doesn't sound right?"

The older makes a sound akin to a cheeky snort. "That can't be your natural expression. Your real one is calmer and... _cuter_."

"I am not cute." Kei almost hisses. Narrowing his eyes, he looks at Kuroo and speaks with accusatory inflection. "What do you need from me? You've been awfully... _flirty_ for the past hour."

Kuroo reclines himself against the wall. His grin is less pronounced but it still displays his debonair charm. "What? You don't believe I'm being genuine?"

"Not really." The younger answers, curt and defiant. 

Any day Kei's heart would have leapt at the thought of receiving praises from a handsome boy. But now he is nothing but suspicious. Because as much as Kei dreams of being flirted with, the likelihood of it happening in reality is close to none. Kei has watched enough documentaries to know exactly how naivety could mean demise - and he is yet to accept his fate of dying a loveless, lonely corpse covered in soil and buried five feet underground with a tombstone that reads: _here lies the virgin boy who got himself tricked by baseless flatteries._

Kei might as well be the poster child of stupidity and desperation combined.

"Hey," Kuroo's bumps him with the light thump of his shoulder. Kei twitches at the sudden closeness of their proximity. "I meant it. Don't sulk too much or else the wrinkles will ruin your pretty face. Besides, scowling won't get you Akaashi's undivided attention."

A breeze of cold air invades the room and crawls its way into Kei's lungs. His breath hitches, the scrappy peaks of his heartbeat augmenting in near hysterics. It can't be. Does Kuroo know? If he does, would that mean others do too? Is Kei's hormonal admiration transparent to everybody? _Dear God_ , the thought of it being true terrorizes him. 

Stuttering, Kei leans closer to whisper his surprise. He clenches on the fabric of his socks, knees stuck to his chest and shoulders arched to a tense stillness. "W-what... _How_...Am I that obvious?"

Kuroo soothes his worry with a quick shake of the head. His chuckles drone, easing the other to breathe properly. "No. I just have a sharp radar for these kinda things. I'm a romance guru, you see."

Suddenly, all panic dissipates. It is replaced instead with baffled disbelief for the older's words. 

"Romance guru?" Kei gapes then huffs, biting down a hard cackle. His lungs are jaded but his mind urges him to let loose a string of snorts. The battle leaves him conflicted before ultimately, Kei settles with an ugly chortle. "What are you, 12?"

His company grumbles at that, openly affronted. "I'll have you know I've got great blackmail material on you so you better choose your insults carefully, _kiddo_."

The implications of Kuroo's tone halts Kei from snickering again. He squints his eyes, daring to meet the boy's gaze. "So why don't you, old man?"

From up close, Kei inspects every detail of the older's face. His finely-shaped brows, hiked up in confusion. His thin and pointy nose, scrunched up in feigned distaste. His long and curled lashes, fluttering like a pair of feather wings. Kei has a clear image of Kuroo. The arch of his lips and the way they tilt when he smirks. The natural flush of his cheeks and the glow of his tan complexion. The cute trail of little moles just above his strong cheekbones. And he even notes the way his sharp eyes glint and stare at Kei like he _knows_ \- like he sees through Kei and his raging, thirsty fantasies that come straight out of porn scenarios -

"Why don't I _what_?" 

Kei falters to get his thoughts back on track. Giving the other's mole one last glance, Kei decides not to meet his eyes as he replies, "You don't seem that thrilled about blackmailing me."

Kuroo chuckles at that. Kei notices the shy peek his fangs make as he smiles, wide and earnest. "That's because I'm a saint. And also because I wanna help you."

"You often go around playing matchmaker for anyone?" The younger asks. A frank curiosity paints itself on his expression.

"Sort of." Kuroo gives a lax shrug as if unsure and confident at the same time. "Akaashi's a good friend of mine. I could tell from a mile away you two have great chemistry. The sparkling attraction and all that jazz. Wouldn't want to let my friend waste such a chance."

"As much as I appreciate the _gesture_...or whatever this is." Kei clears his throat. He lets his knees fall and stretch themselves against the hardwood floor. His short is damp from all the rigorous running (though Kei discloses he'd only raced half a mile of their supposed penalty runs) and the cotton sticks to his skin like a wet veil. "You seem to have forgotten Hinata's little announcement."

"You mean about you and the _'not interested'_ bit?" Kuroo grasps quickly. "Listen, anyone with half a mind could guess it doesn't look like that at all. You've been staring at Akaashi for about an hour now. I gotta tell you, those hearty eyes make up for sound evidence."

The younger grunts, daunted. "You're a nosy person, aren't you?"

"Can't deny that," Kuroo admits. "And you can't deny my guesses either."

"Even if were true," Kei shifts, positioning himself at least an inch away from the boy. "It's pretty bad of you to encourage cheating."

The atmosphere changes apace at the mention of that term. Kuroo recoils too, mouth agape. There is a hushed pause before Kuroo sputters in great dismay.

"W-wait, hold up...what do you mean _cheating_? You're in a relationship?"

Kei widens his eyes and furrows his brows. "I thought Hinata made that very clear."

"No," Kuroo blinks fast, disoriented from the revelation. "He said you're not interested in anybody not that you were already taken."

Well, there goes his free chance. Hinata might have locked the gates but Kei is the one to completely seal it and drown its key down to the deepest depths of the ocean. 

"So now you know." Kei manages to say without weeping. He just stepped on a treasure mine and decided to burn it down to crisps. _Oh Kei, why don't you ever think?_ At this point, Kei is already dumber than Hinata and Kageyama.Now that Kuroo knows, and as consequence, the whole camp will also know - _then_ Akaashi-san will know. 

Kei does not fight the slip of despair that makes its way to his heavy exhales.

"Shit, my bad." The older replies, remorseful. Kuroo rubs his neck, acting under the pretence that he has a strain on his muscle. "Sorry. I thought there was an opportunity and went for it without checking the facts. Too bad though, I was really looking forward to helping you out."

The inclination to mourn over the gigantic loss is overpowered by Kei's inquisitiveness. "You're very committed to this matchmaking thing. Are you that good of a friend or do you really need favours from me?"

"I told you I'm not that type of guy. It's the matchmaker in me, _honest_." 

"Uh-huh," Kei hums pensively. "So you're a weird guy who has some kind of hero-complex."

Kuroo scoffs but he does not look any bit offended. "Not a hero-complex. You could say I've got a propensity for fixing things."

The younger folds his legs. Eagerly, he prepares to stand. "You can stop worrying about that. There's nothing to fix here."

Kuroo looks up at him in a composed fashion. His eyes twinkle with ambiguity as if to hint at something Kei is yet to figure out on his own. The boy makes no move to follow him but he still tracks his movement like a hawk to a prey. 

"We'll see about that." He says, mischievous. Even then the older's grin is comely, _devilish_. Something about its natural allure irks Kei. 

The younger fails to bask in the thrill that resides in his bones when another ball smacks the back of his head. He hears Hinata's apologetic squawk and does not waste a single second to retaliate the assault. 

Hinata might have been saved from bad karma but it does not mean Kei cannot craft another one for him. To hell with compassion, Kei is about to commit murder. 

* * *

Kei does not get to commit murder. Not because he has a change of heart. Not even because of Hinata's desperate pleas. Kei does not want to look bad in front of Akaashi-san. That's the only explanation for his passivity.

He's a frivolous bitch, plain and simple. A bit of a whore, Kei has to confess. 

The second day of camp marks a new beginning for Kei. 

Practice is more hectic. But it's not as though Kei cares about the threat of that or its subsequent consequences. Today, as Kei will describe plainly, is _hibernation-day_. An off-day of sorts. Where Kei has free reign on where he'll loiter and doze off, oblivious to the world of impassioned, zealous boys in jersey shorts and searing gym shoes. A day where's he's not thirsting over someone and grieving over their obvious, unattainable status.

It's also the day where his prickly disposition is at its highest, unattainable peak. And no one - not even the stern-faced coaches or the vigilant teachers, will dare impede his rest.

"You often laze around in dark sheds?" 

- _well_ , no one except Akaashi-san that is. Akaashi-san is always an excpetion.

Kei marvels at the divine vision that is the boy's lurid, _lurid_ existence. He is dressed the same way as the others, sweat in his shirt, thin and see-through, black shorts and blue-rimmed sneakers paired with clean white socks. The trace of his shadow is broad. It appears more pronounced under the glare of the rays that sneak past the barren shed. But even then, the boy glows. Kei, for the most part, could only bite down a whistling squeal at the barest peek of toned muscles under the flimsy layers of his clothing.

There is a good 2.5 seconds before Kei comes to the conclusion that Akaashi-san, in his most glorious form, is the embodiment of a 2000 coming-of-age playlist. When he moves, the melody amps up a hundredfold and Kei hears nothing but the banging drums of his heartbeat. 

The boy is the very definition of every highschool heartthrob. He's the dream boyfriend every girl and boy would think about while they listen through their walkmans and its carefully-organized list of songs - jumping on their springy pile of blankets in the dead of the night and giddy from all the delusional scenarios they've pictured themselves in. Maybe they have their pink socks on as they hearken to the blare of their headphones. Two or three posters of his face plastered on the wall and a string of fairy lights to complete the shrine - and at last, your typical teenage romance movie is set and ready to play itself out.

Kei believes Akaashi-san is much like a movie. And just a preview of his existence easily blinds him that he struggles to even utter coherent speech. 

His mind throws itself into a whirlwind of reservations and reticence. He barely manages to voice out an acknowledgement. Instead, what comes out of his mouth is a bashful mutter, "It's the only place that's quiet." 

Akaashi-san quirks a brow. Wordlessly, he situates himself beside Kei's right. Kei thanks Mother Nature for the very first time after days of denouncing her shortcomings. 

"It's cold in here." Akaashi-san comments. A swift shift and stride, and Kei watches in awe as the older's hands move in a flurry of motion. Seemingly out of the blue, Kei feels a jacket surround his back. Warmth engulfs him and colours him a demure pink.

"I didn't need that." Kei acts proud and confident. His body sags in relief to spell out otherwise. "But...thank you."

Akaashi-san declines the gratitude like the perfect, unpresuming and humble angel that he is. The boy adjusts in his spot and poses himself in a striking recline. Chin angled right and smile modest, he displays himself as a renaissance painting. 

"I asked your friends about where you might be." 

Kei ignores the hideous use of _friends_ and focuses his interest solely on Akaashi-san's implications. "You were looking for me?"

The older nods. "To apologize." 

"For what?" Kei gawks.

"I heard Kuroo-san offered you some... helpful _advise_." Akaashi-san starts, straightforward - just as how Kei prefers his men (not that he actually progressed at sorting and systematising his ideals and preferences, Kei shouldn't be faulted when there are too many pretty boys to choose from). "And I suspect it's not much help at all. I hope you haven't been troubled too much."

 _Well, there are other ways Kuroo could trouble me_. Kei suggests the boy start with that bothersome smirk of his. The cogs in his mind halt for a moment to reproach him. Kei is having difficulties with the startling realizations of his introspective (not) preoccupation. First Futakuchi, then Ushijima, some guy named Suna from Osaka - and now Akaashi-san and Kuroo too? Oh boy, Kei really is a whore. 

"It's okay. Kuroo didn't pester me that much anyway." Kei copes with the epiphany and mumbles his response. He fumbles in his seat and pulls his knees closer to himself. "You don't have to apologize on his behalf." 

"But I want to." Akaahi-san insists, ever the gentleman. "It was very ignorant of him to bring the topic up knowing you already have a boyfriend."

Kei wants to gripe at the reminder. Just when he thought he forgot about that particular detail, his _the one_ delivers it back to him in an unforgiving act of moral reprimand. Mother Nature is a cruel, _cruel_ bitch. Kei expressly abhors her for good.

"Then..." Kei starts meekly, afraid to make any pathetic sounds and scare off a potential mate (yes, that's right, Kei is brazen and hopeless and desperate for love - so sue him). "He's forgiven."

The automatic response catches him off-guard. Akaashi-san snorts, actually _snorts_. And Kei proclaims it to be the most beautiful sound he's ever heard in the entirety of his existence. _Bless this angel._ Really, bless him.

"I would also like to apologise for my own behaviour."

Kei scrunches his nose. His confusion erases much of his nervousness and he finds himself able to meet the older's gaze. The glint of blue orbs harshly tugs at Kei's heartstrings. He doesn't think he can make it past another month with all these disturbances in his normal heartbeat.

"Why?" Kei's whispered question comes out hoarse and jaded.

The boy beside him turns to face him fully. "I may have to take some of the blame for Kuroo-san's meddling." Clearing his throat, Akaashi-san averts his gaze. Now Kei feels a burst of confidence for somewhat flustering the other too. "It's possible...I prompted his matchmaking instincts."

Kei takes a while to divert his focus from Akaashi-san's lips. They're thin and pretty just like him. 

"Prompted what?" He lowers his tone and amuses the boy's hesitant peek to his own lips.

"I wanted to ask you out." Akaashi-san professes, frank and curt.

The younger gawks at him. "You did?"

" _Badly_." The older nods. "I couldn't...well, _didn't_ stop talking about youand that must be why Kuroo-san thought about playing matchmaker." 

At loss for any intelligent speech, Kei opts to repeat his words dumbly. "You...wanted to ask me out?"

Akaashi-san seems to find his dumbstruck expression entertaining. The edge of his chuckles are deep and princely, jaw sharp and smile handsome as he concentrates on Kei's presence alone. "Why does it sound like you find that impossible?"

Kei harrumphs and evades the fervent stare sent his way. "W-well...I don't usually encounter such frank advances." Except for Sato, that is. But Kei deems him a different case. The boy's not a potential mate for Kei. _At all_. "And they definitely don't come from cute boys."

The older doesn't appear all that fazed by his words. His lips are pulled, wide and intrigued by something else Kei had said. "You're a cute one yourself. You shouldn't undermine that."

Man does the guy know how to win a person's heart. It takes Kei everything he's got to not reveal right there and then that Futakuchi is a fake boyfriend and he's ready for taking. Still... a big chunk of his brain grouses at him to heed his better judgement. 

The more Kei contemplates and reflects, the more he feels uncertain about engaging himself in other _stuffs_. He feels _unnerved_ by the thought of being close to other guys when he should be consoling Futakuchi - and mending the rift Kei hurriedly left gaping back at Miyagi. It's as though he's cheating on Futakuchi (even when he knows there is no sound relationship to be disloyal towards). The pungent smell of betrayal and unfaithful commitment frightens Kei so much that he unwittingly leans away from Akaashi-san.

Their free distance allows Kei to realize how little the space of their nearness had been. It also pushes him right into a sharp corner. Kei's forceful stumble is enough to elicit a rough wince. And without knowing, he finds himself against a pile of planks. They wriggle out of their undisturbed rest, close to a threatening fall.

"Look out!"

Akaashi-san comes to his aid posthaste and does not deter his movement one bit. He closes their distance again, palms glued to the planks to keep them from knocking Kei's head. This time, space is sparser. Only the lingering one inch between their nose keeps them apart.

Kei dares a peek at Akaashi-san's lips. When he looks above, he sees Akaashi-san do the same. 

For one long minute, they bask in the peaceful tranquillity. Hearts alight and blazing, Kei throws all reason away to move closer...and closer, and closer and closer -

"Coach specifically said not to do shady affairs in the sheds." 

As if electrocuted, Kei and Akaashi-san separate from each other. Kei whips his head to the brightly lit entrance and meets his greatest nightmare: Kageyama and... _well_ , just Kageyama really. 

"K-king." Kei welcomes croakily. He uses the leverage he has over the gap between him and Akaashi-san to push himself up. Three strides in and he's past the threshold. Not sparing a millisecond, he hastens his steps and exits the shed in no time. Whatever Wattpad romance shit had been transpiring inside the shed now tears itself inside Kei's metaphorical shredder.

Despite the jarring shame that colours him red, the boy doesn't forget to send one parting glance at Akaashi-san. Timidly, Kei offers him a nod. "I'll see you around, Akaashi-san."

And with that, he finally leaves. Kageyama follows him, calm and unbothered. For a moment Kei thinks he would stay quiet. His hopes are shattered when, always one to deliver his insults well, Kageyama opens his lousy mouth.

"You know, in some countries, cheating is considered a sin."

There's a lot Kei knows he needs to learn. But he surely does not need any sort of teaching from Kageyama himself. Most especially when it comes to morals.

"Oh yeah? Better hope they burn me good in hell then." 

Kei gravely believes they will.

* * *

Entry #526:

I know where Bokuto-san could put those muscles into good use.

It's nowhere near holy town, for sure.

* * *

Kei has always been fond of Yamaguchi. He cares about him. He's open to him (as open as one prickly, self-deprecating asshole could be). He's the only person who can provide Kei with fun and tolerable company. Kei is grateful to have a friend like him. He admires the boy and his tenacity - how he tries to believe and commits himself in all the things he loves to do - Kei thinks Yamaguchi is the most impressionable boy he has ever met. And his zeal is tremendously bearable than most.

Tadashi is the sole person outside of his family that he trusts.

But today - that changes. Because today, Kei only feels nothing but _treachery_.

It should be common knowledge that a bitch, when agreeable to friendship, would only attract bitches. Today, that knowledge is proven right. 

Yamaguchi Tadashi is a bitch. Tsukishima Kei should have sensed that before he mingled with demon's spawn.

The shocking revelation of Yamaguchi's true identity happened about an hour ago. Someone had just stood up on top of an empty table and made a stage out of it with their flamboyant guitar and ghastly vocal cords. It was a boy from Fukurodani, that much was clear. Bokuto and Kuroo, ever the advocates of juvenile mishaps, joined in on the fun and prompted an impromptu concert. Some terrible singing and a crowd of dissatisfied listeners later, Yamaguchi decided to propose a grand idea.

 _"I heard Kageyama-kun knows how to play the guitar,"_ He chimed in before any chorus could be belted out. Kei, at that time, should have picked up on the mischief laden in his tone. _"Maybe he could play a song and Tsukki can sing something for us. Tsukki's a real good singer, you guys!"_

And that had been the end of Tsukki's fate. Now he's stuck in an embrace that he cannot escape from (courtesy to Bokuto's large, _large_ hands) while he's teammates watch on in great merriment. _Bastards_. They're all unhelpful bastards. Sure, Kei hasn't been the best to them either but that will not erase the stain they've put in their _bond_. 

_We're your teammates, Tsukishima-kun. We'll help you out whenever we can, Tsukishima-kun._ What a bunch of shameless liars they all are.

The seething whine from his right is the only thing stopping Kei from stabbing everyone in the room. At least Kageyama is here to suffer the same humiliation as him. That ought to exclude the boy from deriding Kei when he's just as badly cursed by their shared predicament. The only time Kei is ever willing to be in common with the boy is when they're both being tormented with shame. Though he still prefers Kageyama to experience more of the misery than him.

"There's no escaping from this, Tsukki." Bokuto mutters to his ears in great humour. 

Kei reckons he doesn't have an ounce of care to be wary about the effect he has on him. When he moves to feign protest, he feels a twinge of thrill run down his spine. The breath on his nape is irresistibly temping and he can't help but chase its sensation. It's really no surprise for Kei. He's always been a sucker for standing positions - most specifically with the ones with his back turned around and pressed hard. 

He forces himself out of his wandering daydreams and pivots as best as he can to bare Bokuto his most guileless, pitiable look of pleas. Usually, the look is given when one is in a porn scenario and in desperate need to blow dicks. But Kei figures it could apply to other instances too.

"Please don't make me sing, Bokuto-san." The boy flutters his lashes just to appear more convincing. 

"You have to, Tsukki. Captain's orders." The older expertly ignores his excuses and offers him a cheeky grin. He sways on his heels and tightens his grip on Kei's hips. Dear god, the boy's a Johnny Bravo and he's riling up Kei without even trying. 

"Come on, Tsukki." Like a set, Bokuto comes with his own Kuroo. The man is lean but his hold on Kei is just as warm and _sinful_. He slithers an arm around Kei's neck and pins him with a smouldering gaze. "There's no harm in sharing us your talents."

Kei lets his lips part and stammers out an exhale. From behind them, just a few inches towards the makeshift stage, Kageyama begins to grouse.

"Are we going to start now or do I have to wait for your threesome to finish?"

Kuro and Bokuto only holler in response while the much saner captains cast Kageyama a disapproving frown. Kei hasn't registered anything yet to even come up with a better rebuttal, so all he does is scowl and stagger. 

Kageyama is quick to dissuade his growing reluctance. He holds the guitar in his hands, certain and steady like he's performed in front of a crowd a million times before. "Listen, it's just one song. You sing, I play and this shit will be over before they even get the chance to taunt us." 

Kei furrows his brows, partly persuaded. "They're still going to mock us after."

His teammate smugly grins at him. Seamlessly, he strums a couple of complicated notes on the strings. "Not if we give 'em a good show. If we do well, they can't tease us."

"Tanaka-san is pointing his camera at us." Kei advances to him as he whispers. "If we screw this up, you better make sure you have enough strength to destroy the evidence."

"We won't. Trust me." 

And for the first time, Kei does. 

They tread their way to the table and stand on the elevated podium (one made of cardboard boxes and plastic crates). There's a mic stand in front of Kei, something he wonders about while testing its quality. Not even a second passes and he already hears hooting from below. Without looking, Kei feels a thud on his shoulder. 

"Let's sing a duet, Tsukki." Kuroo elbows his ribs as if to jest. Kei keeps his eyes on the floor. The texture of the cafeteria tiles sure enlightens him.

"Don't mess up any notes, old man."

Finally, after much shushing from the audience, the room is dead silent. They squirm in focused anticipation, eager for a good show. 10 years from now Kei will look back to this day and ponder what in the world had gotten into him to cave so easily. But today, he will not mull over any of that.

Today, Kei lets loose. One melodic hum and he's got the crowd hooked. Even Kuroo jerks in surprise at the sound of his voice. Secretly, he basks in their attention. 

This is it. Years and years of imagined concert shows held at his own room had eventually led him to this moment. Kei finds the confidence to appraise himself and boast to the teams his hard-earned expertise of pleasing an audience (he absolutely means nothing dirty by that).

As if having sensed the shift in his attitude, Kageyama loudens his strumming. The first note he makes instantly teases a gasp from the crowd.

Kuroo bumps his elbow and raises a brow, twinkling in recognition. "Everybody Talks?"

Kei huffs then smiles. "Gotta make them dance to the music."

Kuroo laughs to agree. He holds his own mic - one Kei guesses Bokuto sneakily handed to him. "Bet ya I could make you dance too."

The younger tilts his head, daring. "We'll see about that."

The song starts slow and gradual before picking up its pace. And by then, Hinata and Yachi have made it their primary goal to lead the place with a resounding slap to the table's edges. Much like a drum, they play a beat - amping up the hype of Kei and Kuroo's harmonious singing. 

Before Kei could even deny Kuroo the satisfaction of a win, he is swept away for a dance. The chorus turns into a full, rambunctious string of exclamations. All around them the crowd is awake, alive and engrossed in their own styles of dancing. The place is filled with clustered bodies, one looking more ridiculous than the last. Some managers stand atop the cluttered mess, singing back to the rhythm. Others stay on the ground, gliding, jostling and swaggering - Tanaka and Nishinoya sure did not shy away from performing one of their absurd mating dance (probably to attract female mates). 

The scene before him is chaotic, comical and, dare he says, fun. Everyone is so laughable Kei's brain cannot keep up with the insults he has to spew out later on. For now, he'll indulge himself. The crowd is too busy anyway, Kei surmises no one would notice him guffawing freely at all.

"You're dancing!" Kuroo holds him by the shoulders and shakes him out of excitement. Kei holds his mic and the mirth of his laughter echoes, drowned only by the greater noise of the others. Their breaths are jagged but they still sing in sync. The rest sing with them.

"I know!" Kei exclaims in pure glee. He fails a step as his smile makes him squint, clumsily landing himself in Kuroo's arms. The older makes the most of his blunder and twirls him around. And they dance like that - a pair of dumb boys with their silly soles set ablaze.

Kei wallows in the blur of their motions, only sensing his reality through Kuroo's touch. At some point, they go from sliding and strutting to facing each other. It's only when Kuro grips his waist and raises him that Kei stops to consider his surroundings again.

When he does, all he can do is connect his gaze to Kuroo's hazel irises. There's a sound click as Kei counts the seconds that he is suspended in air. At the last tick, the clock in his mind rings and brings him back to reality. Kuroo puts him down once again and Kei heaves a sigh before he feels his pocket vibrate.

Even through the haze of huddled bodies, Kei could still glimpse at his screen. He watches as a green box pops out and flashes him a name he hasn't seen for days.

"Boyfriend call?" Kuroo towers over him as he steals a peek at the phone. 

Kei hides it behind his back out of shame, somehow feeling caught. "Y-yeah." 

"You should take it then." The older tells him. His tone is unreadable, face even more so.

Kei finds their gaze disconnect as he peers down to his lit screen. "I guess I should."

Kuroo gives a little grin. Whatever weird atmosphere had been stirred disappears abruptly at Kuroo's command. He does it with ease as if he wasn't previously peeved. Briskly, he takes the mic in Kei's hand and nudges him towards the exit.

Kei obliges and saunters past the threshold. Three rings after and he eventually answers the call.

* * *

Entry #1:

I'm gay.

* * *

"Are you done being a snob?" Kei starts his greeting with that, amiable. Still, there is a careful lilt in his tone.

Futakuchi mends the broken silence with a short snicker. He sounds sheepish, coy and relaxed all at once. "I'm sorry. For ignoring your messages."

"And?" Kei drawls. A yawn slips past his lips. His lids droop, throat parched from all the cheering and yelling. 

"For not messaging you back." Futakuchi adds, sincerely apologetic. "I guess I just felt a little off about the whole texting-a-stranger thing."

Something probes Kei's chest. The sensation feels a lot like a tickle and they leave him with a scathing mark. It makes him feel giddy all over. Kei blames it on his sore muscles. 

"Why would you feel off by that?" Kei pries. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, he's anticipating for a certain answer. He stomps his heels on the ground and rocks himself back and forth. Music lingers in his ears and pulls him by the thread. _Maybe it's love_ , his brain mockingly jokes.

Futakuchi stalls his reply before he speaks of his reasons. "I got jealous."

Kei stops and stumbles. "What?"

His heartbeat spikes up to a worrying degree. A husky chuckle follows and smites Kei with a riveting confession.

"I think I like you, Tsukishima Kei." Futakuchi tells him, not a smidgen of doubt in his volume.

It only takes Kei a stilted second before he drops his sturdy ass on the cold, crass, uneven ground. 


	6. quote of the day: young love just means horny sex musings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ha. What's so good about the weather?"
> 
> "Men." Kei mumbles.
> 
> Kuroo turns his chin. "What?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again, i hope you will have a nice read :>  
> pls forgive me for any overlooked errors <3

Kei wakes up to the dizzying scent of Nishinoya's body cuddled up to his chest. He also wakes up to his favourite radio station's daily preachings about motivational living. This morning their advice is: _life is short, shit on your enemies._ Kei listens on to its brisk and unneeded explanation from the ever-elusive DJ with the husky voice and heavenly chuckles (he has a voice-kink, what did you expect from him?).

For about three minutes, he ignores the itchy touches of Nishinoya's nose on his chest and the obnoxious snores of his idle team. For about three minutes, all is normal and Kei only cares to focus on one noise and one noise only.

Then he closes his eyes to dream of Daddy DJ (yes, he calls him that and no, he does not have daddy issues – Kei just pretends he does to reason with the moralistic portion of his degrading rationality) and all fantasies of being embraced and talked down to go down the drain as Futakuchi's voice comes back to mind to ceaselessly haunt him. It doesn't help that Nishinoya is clinging to him with a conspicuous morning wood that makes Kei doubt shoe-sizes correlate to dick sizes.

The impending awkwardness of his situation is enough for Kei's memory to reel him back to his main predicament. His brain is wired so acutely to his screw-ups that Kei is left with no choice but to weigh the pitiful chances of a stress-free day. When he finds that the morning wood glued to his hip is a far more awkward situation, Kei decidedly chooses a lesser punishment for his brain.

What he does is to recall the last conversation he's had from the most eventful evening of his life (if he exempts all the entries he's had in his bedroom with any of his fantasy boyfriends). Because backtracking on the accounts of last night's conversation is something Kei is ready to face. _Not._

Kei remembers distinctly the disturbed spikes of static lines as Futakuchi, with not so much of a reservation, dropped a bomb on him and expected for a coherent response. Needless to say, Kei had given him otherwise.

 _"You like me?"_ His voice had been particularly squeaky at that time, a string of gibberish dread. _"You're not even gay!"_

 _"Well, I am now."_ Futakuchi had easily provided. It was as though it wasn't much of a shock for him. Not a dramatic realisation of it either. _"Listen. I'm not asking for an immediate answer. I know shit like this isn't always easy to process and God knows how little confessions you get from hot guys -"_

_"Hey! That is not how you talk to someone you like."_

_"So,"_ Futakuchi had tutted pompously. That particular part of the conversation, Kei imagined him with arched eyebrows and raised chin. Fit for a snobbish, cheeky prince. _"I assure you there's no pressure here. I'll wait for as long as it takes."_

And _boy_ does he wait. Futakuchi plays well at being patient that Kei doesn't hear or receive anything from him for a straight ( _ha_ ) 5 hours, including the hours he'd slept with his phone set on full volume just to hear it ring his name. And _yes_ , he does count things. Kei adores counting and he finds no shame in admitting it. Not when the people who judge him usually score lower than Hinata in basic mathematics.

Tanaka snores from behind him as if to mock. His arms splay across Kei's shoulders, breath heavy on the younger's nape. Despite being a mess of nonsense, the boy's babbles are enough to offend Kei. It's a feat only a few can master and Tanaka is stellar at being the greatest at it. The boy hasn't really shied away from flaunting himself as a fine prick in the ass (in more ways than one, Kei doesn't mind).

As he's about to jilt away from the sweaty grasps of his seniors and deprive them of their personal human heater (not everything is sexual, guys) - an exuberant twitter chimes. Kei, being the insensitive little shit that he always is, elbows the bodies snuggled up to him in his pursuit of a quiet phone-conversation. Only when he exits the halls that Kei recognises the ringtone as a message - not a call. And Kei takes a momentary pause to register the name on his notification as anything but Futakuchi. Eventually, he acknowledges the older as one chivalrous, not-so-pretentious, patient _suitor_ (his words not Kei's) who would devotedly wait for Kei's answer.

 _Gather your thoughts before you make a call_ , that had been the suggestion of Futakuchi's silence. A part of Kei is unconvinced by the gesture. A part of him is also aggrieved that Futakuchi is actually being thoughtfully earnest. Because that would mean he would have limited contact with the other. The thought of being ignored again stings him a tad bit.

"Boyfriend troubles?"

Kei bites down a shrill _eep_ as gravity nearly yanks him to the ground. Phone clutched in both hands, Kei stumbles to the hallway's sealed windows.

"Akaashi-san." He greets. The stammer of his breath is partly envious and mostly fascinated. Even in the early mornings of a Saturday, doused in the blue of waking sunset and looking like a lost ghost, Akaashi-san manages to appear princely. "What are you doing here?" _Oh dashing prince of mine_.

Akaashi-san surveys him with sharp eyes. Sheepishly he points his gaze at the jacket Kei wrapped himself with. "I came here to ask for my jacket but...I can see you need it more."

The cry of cicadas ring in Kei's ears. He feels blood rush through his veins and berate him with a mental slap to the head. How had he not notice it? Had he been so brazen enough that he actually made the best use out of someone else's jacket? Should Kei be faulted for basking in its warm and soothing sugary smell? Does this make Kei a shameless person? If he is, then would that mean he's no different from tactless Hinata or socially-inept Kageyama? As if to worsen his panic more, Kei's mind cuts back to last night's impromptu concert.

Handsome Kuroo. Singing. Bokuto and his ripped muscles. Cheering crowds. Sawamura doing a split. More singing. Shirtless Tanaka. Dancing - _oh no_. Did he really just wear the jacket all throughout the night and danced with it on? Oh god, it must be stinking with his sweat now. He can't give the jacket to Akaashi-san in such a state! His chances would be ruined! Granted, his chances with the other is pretty much zero but what if - _stop it Kei, you desperate hoe!_

"Oh my god," Kei doesn't even sputter. He buries his face in his hands, the feel of cotton cuffs cradling his cheeks as he mulls over his outrageous thoughts. For a minute, Kei thinks of running away with the jacket just for the comfort it gives him. But then he thinks better and realises he'd have to bear the shame of it too.

As a last-ditch effort, Kei urgently tries to compose himself. "I am _so_ sorry, Akaashi-sama — I-I mean!" _Goddamnit Kei_. "I-I apologize.... A-akaashi-san."

Before Kei can undress the jacket off his shoulders and cast his last bits of dignity aside, Akaashi-san stops his motions in a lax wave of dismissal.

"It's okay." He says, tone an addictive drip of saccharine. His eyes linger on Kei as if to absorb an image of him. "It suits you better. I think you should have it."

Kei feels his heart clap in exaltation. Good god, Akaashi-san will be the literal death of him.

"Oh." A soft, triumphant smile colours his face. Kei feels his lips part and fingers fiddle with the long sleeves of Akaashi-san's jacket. "T-that's...very nice of you. But I can't -"

The older raises his palm. "Think of it as a gift from me."

"What for?" Kei frowns. "I haven't done anything particularly special to warrant a gift."

"Should I need a reason?" Akaashi-san replies, flashing his sparkly teeth. Treading silently, he invades Kei's space. He roams his fingers in the air before gingerly twirling them around the jacket's zipper.

"I don't know." Kei shrugs, struggling to remain impassive. Still, with such an elated gaze pinned on him, Kei can't help but hum. A burst of confidence urges him to dare. "Do you?"

The unprecedented act catches the older off-guard. Akaashi-san lets out a baffled laugh, lips pulled to a slanted grin. He pulls the zipper upward and lets his knuckles linger on the sheen of Kei's collarbones. 

After a delayed moment of inactivity, the boy decides to pocket his hands. He arches his shoulders, charmingly sheepish as he says, "I have to be honest with you...I have a spare jacket."

Kei tilts his head in confusion. "That's...good?"

Akaashi-san's grin widens at his uncertainty. Snickering, he pushes himself away from Kei. Despite with the bare centimetres that expose their height difference, Akaashi-san does not fail to fluster the younger. He gazes at him like a tower would to a passerby on the ground floor. And when he speaks, short of insecurity, Kei hearkens to his every word like a parched man on desert soil.

"What I mean to say is," Akaashi-san playfully lags his pauses to tease. "I only used the jacket as an excuse to talk to you."

Kei lets his eyes wander around as he struggles to process the confession. Short of any meaningful speech, he evinces a soft, "Oh."

There must have been something funny about his dumbstruck expression as Akaashi-san only laughs. Even when given repose to reflect on it, Kei is yet to wrap his head around the realisation. The pain of confusion doubles on Kei's wrinkles. Akaashi-san chooses to show mercy and offers Kei a tender ruffle. 

"White looks good on you," Akaashi-san says. He walks past Kei, probably to return to his team's assigned room. "See you around, Tsukishima-kun."

And if the boy is aware of the effects his words have on Kei, he surely does a good job at acting clueless about it.

Too bad Kei can't do the same.

Sinking to the ground and smothering your grating squeals is far from clueless.

* * *

Entry #20:

I wanna marry Haruto-san.

* * *

"Gather up!"

The loud, invasive, sonorous beckon of Coach Ukai meanders through the free air. Down below, where the weak and worn gripe about another flight of makeshift stairs, Kei grumbles a curse under his gritted teeth. It isn't exactly directed to his precious gangster of a coach. Kei simply intends to loathe everyone in existence. Coach Ukai just so happens to not make it easy for Kei to despise him and his scratchy voice.

"Move your asses, it's just a couple more tracks!"

Except it isn't just a _'couple more tracks'_. They've been going at it for more than an hour. The trail of their unprompted and out of nowhere last-day field trip isn't alleviating the seething anger welling up inside of Kei. Kei does not find it unbelievable if he isn't the only one damning the coaches for an unasked arrangement.

"Come on, _Tiredshima_! It's not that hard! Just walk a little faster."

Hinata, part of the peculiar and energetic majority, runs past Kei and a group of other huffing mourners. He bares them a victorious smile as he bounces on all toes. And because he lacks the delicacy needed to empathise with abused minorities (the ones who merely thought better than to waste their already depleting energy on some stupid hiking trip), Hinata unknowingly makes the wise and audacious decision to skip - like _dorothy-tap-dancing-to-somewhere-over-the-rainbow_ sort of skip. Just to flaunt his inhuman stamina and boundless vivacity.

Boasting about a supposedly easy task and rubbing it in Kei's face is surely an invitation for murder right? Hinata wouldn't have had the gall to titter like it's a merry Sunday and Jesus Christ is about to descend from heaven if he really did not want to die. Especially in the hands of a volatile non-believer of pure kindness and unfeigned forgiveness. Kei isn't one to have faith in the goodness of the heart of people, so that would automatically find his act of slaughter excusable to some degree.

Kozume-san and the others behind him seem to think the same. Although, Kozume-san doesn't appear to detest Hinata's existence as much as Kei does. _Young love_ , Kei supposes. They make you blind and daft to even the most hideous existence.

"Not like you're faring any better." Yamaguchi emerges from his side as if having inspected the gist of his thoughts. He wears a humming expression on his face, eyes close to a squint as he drives a heel towards the hollow indents of mud and moss. "Stop grumbling about young love and murder, Tsukki. Some of us can still hear, you know."

 _Hear?_ Can Yamaguchi honestly say he's heard all of Kei's musings because of a slip-up? Or is the boy secretly a mind-reader who's trying to pass his supernatural power as a fluke?

"I'm not a mind-reader." Yamaguchi interrupts between amused giggles. "You think with your mouth sometimes, Tsukki. I happen to be close enough to listen to some of it."

"Shut up, Yamaguchi." Kei fastens his pace for fear of further embarrassment. Yamaguchi follows him nonetheless, possibly having known too much already. Kei still thinks the boy is a telepath. Goodness knows what Kei will do if Yamaguchi _accidentally_ hears some of his less than appropriate daydreams.

The boy does not get ample time to prove his theory right. Just as they are about to move around a path of rocky trails, Kei's ankles unwittingly bump against a slippery inclination. His unwary misstep sends him stumbling to the nearest downward slope, allowing the thinnest, most ear-splitting shriek escape his mouth.

It sends the crows crying and the twittering sparrows dispersing into panicked groups. It also evinces unfiltered snickers of contentment from Kageyama and full-blown cackles from some guy named Taketora.

Again, Kei doesn't even get the chance to cast his curses on his teammates as not a second after, a shadow towers over him to lend help. Kei takes the palm extended in front of him and quickly recognises it to be Kuroo's.

"Bad fall you had there." The older winces out of sympathy. He tightens his hold on Kei, pulling him off the slanted ground with expert ease. Scarce of shame, Kei glimpses at the bulge of Kuroo's biceps as he lands back on his two clumsy feet.

A dash of tender ray burns into Kei's glasses. Distracted, the soles of his shoes rub against the smooth and flattened surface. His movement is ungainly, arms floundering for support as Kei slips into Kuroo's steadfast grasp. Not for the first time, Kei reddens in mortification. He twists his head to glare at the din of Tanaka and Nishinoya's gruff howls. Even Hinata, the most aware of Kei's perilous capability for homicide, cannot stifle his guffaw.

"I'll go alert the coach!" Luckily for them, Yamaguchi's shrouds their cheers of amusement. _Saved for another day, top of the hitlist tomorrow._

Kuroo, oblivious to the ominous implications, kindly nods at him to hurry. Hastily, the boy places himself right behind the flippant second-years - not forgetting to berate his upperclassmen. He waves a sign of consolation after, perhaps directed at Kei. The subsiding snickers caused by their widening distance only solace little of Kei's bruised pride.

"Is it really that funny for them?" Kuroo regards the boys peering at them from above. He inches forward, guiding Kei to the ascending steps. The boy sharply minds the trails of uncaring teams behind them, all eager to walk past without so much of energy to care. 

"They're just sadists. They take pleasure in my adversities." Kei ignores the passing crowd and holds tightly on to the older's forearm. The only excuse Kei has for the physical indulgence is the warmth of Kuroo's muscle. 

If Kuroo notices the subtle groping, he does not ask. "My, my - such strong accusations you have of them."

Kei gruffly snorts. "You should join my team so you could see how much of a monster they truly are."

The older slackens his pace, committed to offering sturdy assistance. "I heard you aren't much of a saint yourself. Even worse than them, Shrimpy said."

 _I'll kill that human tangerine._ "My reputation is overly exaggerated. I didn't take you for the shallow kind, old man. Would have thought you don't believe in hearsay."

"Not when there's some semblance of truth to them." Kuroo dares. His voice is light, cheery like the sunshine rhythm Bokuto howls when he spikes a ball right. 

"Oh yeah? Have you any tangible proof of your claims, mister - _ah fuck!_ " Kei slips again. This time, they are so far behind that their witnesses are less attentive to his cries. 

Kuroo stands by him with admirable firmness. He is quick on his hands, clasping both of Kei's as the boy lurches forward with his bent knee. After seconds of fast thinking, Kuroo speedily kneels to inspect the boy's ankle. Kei doesn't wait for instruction before he grips on Kuroo's shoulders. He keeps himself upright, the last of the hikers' line swerving past them to notify the teachers of his injury.

Fukurodani's Konoha takes his time to reassure Kei as he passes by them. His smile is infectious. His defined eyebrows and tilted smile of comfort are to die for. There's something about the way he gingerly pats Kei's shoulders that makes him swoon and mourn for its abrupt absence. If the blond's attention isn't too torn over Kuroo's graceful built and the stinging ache in his ankle - Kei would have unabashedly salivated at the sight of the cute boy. Too bad his appearance is only momentary. Kei has his face engraved in his mind anyway.

"Eyes on the ankle, buddy." Kuroo's pinch on his shin tugs him back to the more reasonable realm of reality. Kei grumbles in confusion. With a scowl, he sends Kuroo's unasked caution a querulous regard. "Your boyfriend okay with you checking out other boys?"

Kei arches his brows, conflicted as to what to make of the implication. To save the believable act of his and Futakuchi's pretence, Kei yields to a less offending standpoint. "He does it sometimes too. We're both...keen on certain types. But we trust each other not to cheat." 

Kei purses his lips when Kuroo casts him another fazed peek. The boy's head is levelled well around the height of Kei's waist. Just the top-view sight of it is frying his brain raw. "Besides, healthy relationships do that from time to time. You can't have too many constrictions or else both parties will feel jailed." 

Though Kei is uncertain if real relationships actually allow that. He figures as long as two (or more) agree on their own definition of one, then there's not much people should say about it. That is, only if there are no harmful consequences involved. But then again, Kei is much too inexperienced to distinguish all of such kinds from one another. He hasn't got a clue on how to handle his own either. Perhaps, Sex Ed should include lessons about healthy relationships - just for the purpose of guiding relationship-rookies like Kei in the matters of romance and wise choices. Kei shouldn't wish to end up in a relationship that is unsatisfying.

"Sounds like a lax boyfriend to me." Kuroo pulls his sock back to its initial height. He brushes his knees, shorts tight around the robust muscles of his thighs. 

Kei momentarily throws all ideas of fawning over the unintended flex. His mind is primarily set on defending Futakuchi. "He's a good boyfriend, that's what he is."

The older throws his hands, lackadaisical. He twists his wrists around to appease the younger. "Didn't say he wasn't." Pausing, the boy sucks in a breath. In one curt pivot, Kuroo bares his back and arranges his legs. "Hop in."

Kei flails around for a reply. "I-I can walk on my own!"

"And risk worsening your injury?" Kuroo voices the alternative as ill-advised. He stretches his arms and positions them behind his back. With neck craned, the boy readies his elbows for the impact of Kei's weight. "Hop in. The coaches would insist that I do the same anyway - captain's call and all that. There's no use being stubborn about it." Eyes glinting, Kuroo dares to goad the younger. "Unless you're scared."

Kei scoffs, abashment subsiding to be replaced with irritation. Kei considers nudging the other just to establish his superiority. But he thinks smartly and realises the best way to deflect the provocation is to return it better.

"It's not like that Kuroo-san." Kei drawls out the syllables of his sentence. Even when in pain, Kei does not falter in his quest for victory. "I'm just worried about your back. I feel like you won't be able to take my weight - given I'm taller than you and all."

Kuroo's face sours. "You're a real brat, you know that?"

Kei revels in the silly glimpse of the older's pout. "I try my best." 

Then, as if having practised it a million times, he latches on to Kuroo's back. His arms dangle loosely around the boy's neck. There is a straightforward trust between the two of them. Kei, despite his proclivity to give it out more sparsely than generously, conveys his willingness for a near-intimate contact without so much of a scruple.

Kuroo pants as he stomps on the first step. Noticing the many rocks that slide and keek through the damp perimeters of the trail, he skillfully manoeuvres the both of them around. Each obstacle brings its fair share of bumpy steps and jerky motions. Kei does not complain. He takes advantage of the strenuous activity that has Kuroo huffing and sweating, surreptitiously inching his chin forward to rest atop the arched indent of a warm and unflinching shoulder. Much like Bokuto, his build is reassuring, determined and implacable. The perfect kind of frame that hungry corporates would exploit to model their action figures and ken dolls on.

"Still thinking 'bout that boy?" 

Kei stammers and loses his grip. Kuroo reacts just in time to catch him by his bottom. Kei reacts just in time to mute down his moans of pleasure-filled thirst. 

_I'm actually thinking about your hands on my ass._ "No. I'm just admiring the nice weather today."

"Ha. What's so good about the weather?"

"Men." Kei mumbles.

Kuroo turns his chin. "What?"

The younger briskly tucks his head behind the other's nape, cheek squeezed against mint-scented skin. "Nothing."

Kuroo does not appear persuaded by the dismissive reply but he shows no desperation to gauge out long replies from Kei. Like a respectful boy would, he leaves the odd comment as is. The rest of the upward climb finishes with little to no focus on the matter.

"Tsukki!" Yamaguchi wastes no time in bombarding Kei with concerned glances. Ennoshita and Asahi tower over the boy, Tanaka and Nishinoya lurking just behind and looking suspiciously remorseful. 

"Yamaguchi." Kei greets as Kuroo gently lowers him to the ground. He cringes in pain as his soles make contact with an uneven patch of grass. Kuroo slinks an arm around his waist to keep his balance levelled and ankle safe from unnecessary damage.

"You can let go now." Seemingly out of nowhere, Akaashi-san appears. He eyes Kei and Kuroo, mildly invested in anything but the arm on Kei's hip. "I can take it from here. You must be tired, Kuroo-san."

"Actually..." Kuroo pulls Kei closer to himself, "I'm not that tired. I can handle this just fine."

A frost dangles in the air. Kuroo licks his lips clean of dryness and offers the younger a lopsided grin. His stare glints in red, crackling as it clashes with the electrifying glow of Akaashi-san's own. Kei senses a brewing tension between the two of them. He imagines, for one heedless moment, how blissful life would be if Kuroo and Akaashi-san were actually fighting for him. Two gallant warriors off to compete for the queen's hand in marriage. Maybe in a battlefield, clad in shining armour and aided by black mustangs - where they bare their skills, bleed and sweat for Kei and only Kei - 

Yeah right, Kei doesn't have that much luck in love. Regardless of the bizarre dynamics of the two, Kei thinks they're better off as passionate lovers than enemies to one another. Kei's just the hapless bystander stuck in their complicated romance.

"You guys should have a threesome." Yamaguchi's announcement pulls them all back to a screeching halt. 

Kei spares his friend a shifty glance and watches as the boy beams at them in an eerie imitation of innocence. Kei exploits the awkward pause to remind himself of the abhorrent deviant that is Yamaguchi Tadashi.

"TSUKKI!!"

By some dumb luck, Bokuto's rambunctious entrance cuts the awkwardness short. Everyone is safe from the dismal taunt. Kei, feeling the most responsible, is thankful to be exempted from reviving any sort of pleasant atmosphere. Bokuto does it so seamlessly there's not a need for Kei to forcibly do it.

Just this once, he feels generous.

"Bokuto-san." He greets the older with a welcoming stance, allowing himself a three-second stay in his embrace. "I'm okay if that's what you're meaning to ask."

Bokuto vehemently shakes his head. He takes the younger's hand and unwittingly drags him away from Kuroo's grasp. "You don't get to decide that. Come on, I'll take you to the nurse."

"I can do that for him -"

In a flash, ignorant of Akaashi-san and Kuroo's protests, Bokuto carries Kei over his shoulders. Kei is much too enticed by the feel of the boy's muscles that he doesn't allow himself a second to grieve over his stained dignity.

After the nagging worries from Takeda-sensei and admonishing _tsks_ from coaches ebb, Kei finally gets his wound bandaged. The camp begins its fun not much after that. Firewoods are piled and lit up. Teenagers cram together to lean into the heat and fawn over the flares. Marshmallows are passed around and as always, the unlucky ones are left with little. 

30 minutes into the drowsy, cosy feel of things, Takeda-sensei brings out a guitar. Kageyama is coerced into playing. Some Nekoma boys egg Kei to sing again but he imposes his control and rejects them before the next senior taunts him into caving in. Still, his lack of participation does not deter the others. 

Bokuto, ever the life of chaos and Tanaka, ever the hype-man - join forces together and fill the hush with mispronounced lyrics. Nishinoya and Taketora add to the fun, yodelling like drunk salarymen as the rest of the circle snicker at their frivolity. Lev and Hinata pull a bunch of the upperclassmen into a silly dance train, Sugawara leading the others and Asahi chuckling shyly by the sidelines. Ennoshita and Yaku chatter about in the open. Kozume dawdles on his phone, stealing casual glances at Hinata. 

What do you know, the atmosphere is hinting at a bit of romance. Kei prays Mother Nature can give him some of it too.

"This feels nice." A soft shoulder nudges closer to his left. Kei notices the warmth to be Yamaguchi. "Hey, Tsukki. You're having fun, are you?"

Kei relishes the respite of breeze to praise the effervescent angle of Yamaguchi's face. "Why does that matter?"

Yamaguchi hugs his knees closer to himself. He leans his head on one of them, eyes sparkling in flickering orange. "It does." He smiles, pleased. "I can tell you're having lots and lots of good days."

"You're saying strange things again, Yamaguchi." Kei averts from the blinding stare. He sticks his chin behind his bent knees and folded arms, surveying the crowd. Akaashi-san catches his gaze and stills to look at him. Kei avoids the attention but ends up stumbling upon Kuroo's instead. Yamaguchi spares him the trouble of frantic evasions by tugging on his sleeve. Kei blushes, overwhelmed by the sudden interest.

"Tsukki," A lulling pause. "Pink suits you well."

* * *

Entry #312:

I still wanna marry Haruto-san

* * *

There is a lot to learn about camping in the woods. In the three hours that Kei is yet to sleep, he definitively deems camping the worst activity to ever come into existence. A fly in the air. A slithering rub on his chin. Distant murmurs of crawling creeps and the baleful messages of howling wolves. Kei isn't sure if there are even wolves in the mountains of Tokyo. He's not given much time to sulk about it though. There is not even a minute to gripe about the cicadas, the disconcerting rustle of leaves and the bone-chilling crunch of twigs (so Kei is a scaredy-cat sometimes, sue him) - because all such worries dissipate at the beckon of a long-anticipated call. 

Kei, for all his grousing and complaining, still finds delight in the simplest of things. Most say one can only enjoy the trivialities when stuck in a pit of dissatisfaction. Kei supposes that proverb applies to now, when he's deep in the covers of his sleeping bag with a blaring screen for bare lumination - and a call that absolutely needs to be answered.

Kei taps his phone at the second ring.

_"Yo, Kei. How are you?"_

Never would Kei think that such a sentence could turn him on so badly. But it does anyway. It's Haruto-san, that's why. Godly, handsome, perfect Haruto-san. Kei almost combusts at just the jingle of his chuckle. 

"H-haruto-san." It's a truth wholly acknowledged that Kei only stutters for him (the claim is not true but Kei has always been fickle-minded). "How are you? Why are you calling at such a late hour?"

Haruto-san laughs at him. Flowers bloom all around. _"Don't sound too surprised now, Kei. It's not the first time I've called you."_

"It's three am." Kei scrunches his nose, cheeks flushed. "What do you want?"

_"Must I always need something to talk to you?"_

Kei stifles a yawn and replies with dead silence. Haruto-san merely snickers in amusement.

 _"Fine. You're right."_ Haruto-san jokingly huffs. _"Your camp officially ends this morning, right?"_

Kei nods. "And?"

 _"Well, I was just thinking..."_ Haruto-san pauses, probably to scratch his nape. _"If you and Aki would like to go on a beach-trip."_

"Just the three of us?" The idea sparks a thought in Kei. His heart throbs, enthused over the possibilities. Kei doesn't mind it being just the two of them. Aki can tag along another time.

 _"Sort of."_ Haruto-san disrupts his musings. Kei happily lets him. _"My half-brother's tagging along. It's been too long since I've met with the guy. He's about your age actually, maybe a year older."_

Kei takes all the calmness he can muster to not screech and scare his snoring teammates. 

"You have a brother?!" His question comes in a whispered hiss. _Is he as hot as you?_ He wants to ask. 

_"Uh-huh."_ Haruto-san answers, nonchalant. _"He plays volleyball too. I think you guys will get along well."_

"Not if he's not as cool as you." Kei grumbles, pouted lips in full display for the moon to cackle at. "What's his name anyway?"

"Kiyoomi," The older lilts his voice. "Sakusa Kiyoomi."

* * *

Entry #55: 

Today the team wore leather for a play.

Yamaguchi looked real hot in one.


	7. word of the day: foursome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Remind me again why my life is miserable," 
> 
> "Three reasons: my brother likes your brother, there's some weird sexual tension going on between the two of them - and they just ditched us, probably to make out behind the secret rocky shore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello lovelies! i offer you a new chapter, hope you'll have a good read.
> 
> also, apologies for overlooked errors, i've only had the luxury to write during nighttime and my brain was too idle to look out for any mistakes <3

Entry #790

Akaashi-san. Kuroo-san. Bokuto-san. And a foursome.

 _Heh_ , it rhymes.

* * *

The beach is a highly revered place inclusive to all humankind. For the straights, it's a paradise of godly ventures. For the gays, it's a paradise of godly ventures - _but_ , gayer for sure. For the introverts and extroverts, the fun is more nuanced, but even then - it appraises the beach. And for the introverted gay - it's a divine haven of illusory affairs.

As Grandma Tsukishima used to say, the beach is a firmament. Sure she's a nutcase believer of the ever-omnipotent God who spouts the most insensitive slurs like a sailor on crack but - Kei has to admit the heinous witch had her own moments of wisdom. Too bad the rest of her moments are a bunch of cult-like, anti-everything, witchcraft fuckery. _Ah_ , the good old days when Kei used to sit on her lap as she preached about the God Almighty while complaining ceaselessly about damning the neighbours for stealing her pot of poison ivy.

Kei reckons he'll have none of those memories now. He beholds the Elysian fields gleaming before him - all sunlit skies and boundless waters, waves against boulders and sands between bare toes. He imagines Bokuto stripping from the distance with the slight drizzle of sweat cascading on his hard pecs. Ushijima is emerging from the ripples too, probably with his bulging arms around a surfboard - an olive-brown pattern to pair with his windswept hair. Someone with Iwaizumi and Sawamura's figure would fit right in the row of men running across the shore - clad in tight shorts and bouncing in slow motion.

Kei inwardly swoons over his fantasy like a dog denied of treats. _Godly, saintly, orgasmic_ box of treats. If only his disposition allowed him to moan about them without the dread of shame and judgment.

"Tsukishima-san, you're drooling on your watermelon."

Kei deftly wipes the drip of saliva on his chin and halts. Wait, why was he at the beach again? Why is he talking about _Homo-hater_ Nana all of a sudden? Is this one of those maladaptive daydreaming instances?

"Hey?" A gruff, droning voice echoes in his eardrums. "You okay there?"

Kei blinks his eyes dumbly and meets Sakusa's concerned frown. Half of his expression is hidden well beneath the thin layer of a surgical mask. The horny mist of Kei's gaze gains clarity then, offended by the sheer glint of pale, sickly skin and sharp hollow orbs. In a jiff, Kei body jerks at an alarming speed. All too suddenly, the blond is faced with the realisation that he's in a very unpromising situation. He's also graced with blessings of Sakusa's heavenly (random, _sure_ \- but also mystical) existence.

Without a doubt, Kei has already ruined the very scant chances he has with the older. When has he never? He's a luckless dimwit. As a self-proclaimed virgin succubus, even in hell, he's the ill-fated, hapless laughingstock. The clowns of Satan may find him an unparalleled comic relief too. Kei's a standing joke of all realms, it appears.

"Remind me again why my life is miserable," Kei says with no intention of an audience. Unfortunately for him, he's much too absentminded to mind the audible drawl of his idiocy.

Sakusa is polite enough to humour his absurdness. "Three reasons: my brother likes your brother, there's some weird sexual tension going on between the two of them - _and_ they just ditched us, probably to make out behind the secret rocky shore."

Kei huffs and ganders at the scenery. It's true, the two adults responsible for their safety are nowhere to be found. "I don't think that's a _probably_. They're definitely getting it on."

Aki may be a lousy virgin but Kei is certain the older has his slut mode turned on for the day. Even the _goody-two-shoes_ fellas can have their sinful, _sinful_ sides. Pity, Kei can't seem to act the same. If he were any other brazen person, he would have probably caved in and made a move on Haruto-san's brother. It's only a mortifying shame he's a lousier virgin than Aki. He surmises the Tsukishima Family Tree is simply inadequate in the ways of hard-earned, must-have romances. Father's exceptional (and rare) luck with mother is a glaring testament to that.

A man traipses past from Kei's left. The distance is a mere two meters away, and Kei finds himself on the front row of a very special display. His eyes do not wait for any commands. They track the languid steps of burly muscles and flexing abs in no more than a second. From afar, the catchy beat of Rick James' _Super Freak_ resounds at an unhurried, deliberate pace. With a pliant grasp on a heap of sand, fingers subtle in its twitching, Kei nibbles on his lips ever so furtively and fawns over the leisure speed of a man clad in the skimpiest of maroon trunks.

"Bless the heavens for the heat." Kei gurgles, unabashed.

"You're drooling again." Sakusa, ever the perceptive company, loudens his voice to warn him.

The song that once steadily augmented in Kei's mind brusquely pulls up to a screeching wobble, then quells with a scathing scratch. Gruff and terse, like a clipped audio of a rational brain's indelicate fall from grace.

"I'm sorry, what were we talking about again?"

Sakusa reclines on the support of his elbows and kicks a leg outward. It reaches beyond the shade of their shared umbrella, the sheen of anaemic white glinting cheekily from the rays that deflected off the panes of his black glasses. Where he had produced the accessory from, Kei is too distracted to know.

"Dick older brothers. Awkward younger brothers. And you drooling over every guy you see at the beach."

Kei makes a strangled noise before he protests, churlish and vehement, "I wasn't drooling over anyone."

"You're a young, hormonal gay teenager - I get it." Sakusa remarks impassively. "Plus, the heat must be getting to you. Don't bother with the reasons. I don't really care that much, anyway."

The younger scoffs, pettish. "You seem awfully proud of your observations, detective."

Sakusa shrugs without care. "It's not really an observation if you don't even try to hide it."

Kei scans over his metaphorical files of witty comebacks to provoke the other with. His folders of ideas have been sadly drained dry from his last talk with Kageyama. Now, all he can craft in his mind is a snarky, petty, "Whatever." To save face, he quickly adds, "How long do you think it'll take for them to finish their...business? I'm dying of boredom out here."

Sakusa wisely follows through with the forced shift of their conversation and replies, "Beats me. They might take a while before they even remember about us."

"Fucking assholes." Kei mumbles through gritted teeth. He fumbles with the slim, billowy fabric of his shirt. Grudgingly, he draws on flat sand and chants a curse in his head as he thinks of his brother. He makes his sketch of his circles ominous with their squiggly lines and questionable pattern just for an eerie, anxiety-inducing effect. It works well enough that Sakusa squirms in his spot for a split second.

"No need to perform any witchcraft." The older interrupts like he's figured out his plans of murder. Aided by his agile motions, he fishes out a hefty leather pouch from his left pocket and bares the boy an admirable stack of bills.

Kei squints his eyes in suspicion and cautiously asks, "What are you thinking?"

Sakusak quirks his lips, devilish. "Nii-san gave me his wallet, and it's loaded with a shit-ton of banks. If you want, we can go 'round the nearby stalls and splurge."

The blond frowns. He pulls his legs closer to his chest and slumps on the support of his knees. "You sure Haruto-san is okay with us spending all his money?"

"Nope." Sakusa's frankness is as wry as ever. "But it makes for a good revenge plot, doesn't it?"

As soon as the true agenda reveals itself, Kei, without a simple shred of reluctance, agrees on the offer. His susceptibility to mischievous gratification ultimately saves Sakusa from troublesome inconveniences. There are not enough seconds given for sound reflection or insistent convincing because Kei simply thrives on the misfortune of others. Though in his defence, there's not much fair development in his life to make him the less miserable one for once.

Suck on that, Mother Nature.

"Oh well," And so Kei frees himself from the tethers of good old church morals. Whatever proverbs his Nana's phantom preached into his ears gets whisked away by the force of Kei's unyielding bitchery. "It's his fault for entrusting the money with you."

For the first time, Sakusa's empty orbs finally have a bit of shine to them. "So which stall do you wanna go to first?"

Kei smirks and readies himself for a long walk. "Why don't we start with the most expensive one?"

They get ice cream despite their initial plans of basking in luxury. Kei suggests they buy it with golden flakes, but the modest hut-stall they go to is yet to upgrade their limited range of flavours. Sakusa offers the kindly owner a generous tip hoping to have it improved by the time of his next visit. Kei playfully quirks a brow at his noble act of charity and feigns a weep akin to a proud mother's wailing. Just for dramatics, Kei deems it necessary.

Sakusa catches his jape and decides to trip him with the sly glide of his feet. It causes Kei to drop half of the cream of his dessert - pure asinine mischief that plants an unforeseen thrill in Kei's masochistic side (he gets turned on by the weirdest actions, sue him all you want). 

The blond does not hold back on countering the attack with a skittish nudge of the elbow. Surprisingly, Sakusa only smirks at his effort for revenge and doesn't retaliate any further. Perhaps, he already feels Kei is half-interested in playing mean. 

"Punch me again when you've got enough strength in your bones."

 _How about you kick me instead, Daddy._ "Oh please, I was just going easy on you."

To and fro, they throw their lighthearted rebuttals. The buoyant tone carries through the sandy drafts. There is less of the awkwardness and more of the progressing familiarity heavy in their drowsy strolling. How they manage to talk sports, balls and volleyball (with barely any clear input and too many intrusive delusions of sex on the beach from Kei) then meander about each other's likes, dislikes and questionable tastes - Kei isn't too set on fathoming. He'd much rather indulge in their bizarre interactions and see where it goes because - _well_ , in all honesty, Kei believes there's a slim, budding chance for _something_. 

Sakusa hasn't jeered at his not-so-subtle drooling. He is yet to exhibit any signs of being strictly straight. _And_ , Sakusa has no idea of Kei's supposed boyfriend. Provided with these palpable shreds of evidence, Kei can concur there is a smidgen of hope to expect.

He makes the best out of the circumstances to get a good advantage. The concealed intentions of his questions smoothly come across as steady investment. A sort of ask and imply system. Play off the casual passivity and get the man with a sliver of engrossment. Kei's smart like that.

"You like spiking balls?" _You can spike mine._ "That's nice."

"Your favourite is pickled plums?" _I can learn to make that for you._ "How unusual."

"You love the colour yellow?" _That's my hair colour - it matches the drapes by the way._ "A common choice, I must say."

"You abhor crowds?" _We're totally soulmates._ "Me too."

Sakusa, ever the uncaring fool (but not really, because Kei can happily surmise he's a sharp-minded guy who more than deserves his title as one of Japan's top high school aces), hums his affirmation without so much of a thought to hide them. Haruto-san said he's too closed-off for any prolonged conversations so Kei has to play his cards right. 

_Ah_ , look at him now, actually making an effort to socialize. What a profound improvement he's had in such a small amount of time. It's crazy how your horniness can push you to be better. Or maybe Kei's just a weirdo who's only sexually-motivated, who knows. 

"I wear masks to keep people away from me." 

They're on to the 10th stall when Sakusa entertains his curiosity about the mask. The food in their hands is a cool, strawberry-filled crepe and Kei makes it his utmost mission to look as convincingly seductive as he can with a white cream smeared on his lips. 

"What's a mask gonna do? Scare them off with your presumed infectious virus?" Kei licks the cream clean with a sensual swipe of the tongue. If Sakusa notices the blond's coquettish gaze, he hides it well with his husky coughs. 

"S-sort of." He clears his throat. "But I use it to make myself look snobbish. Keeps the nosy pests away."

Kei picks up on his faint stammer and tucks away a smile. _Ha_ , what do you know, that cliche gesture actually works. Kei was wise to trust the hentai mangas for reference. "I can somehow relate. My build helps with the condescending attitude."

Sakusa wanders his gaze and pins them curtly on every part of Kei's body. "You might need a little more muscle in you if you want to keep the effect going."

 _Oh_. Kei raises a brow. "No thanks. I like my gangly limbs the way they are." Translation: _I want to be a skinny, dainty twink for you, Daddy._

"You won't be saying the same thing if people can easily get around your blocks."

Kei stills. "That's something you have to find out for yourself." He dares, mockingly. "I can play mean when the spikers are arrogant."

Something akin to intrigue sits heavy in Sakusa's silence. Kei marvels at his proud height, eyes alighting on the handsome smirk displayed for him. 

"I'd like to play with you sometime," Sakusa replies, a little lethargic in his mumbling. "But not before I know what your favourite positions are."

"Probably cowgirl or missionary." 

"What?" Sakusa blinks owlishly.

"What?" Kei parrots dumbly. In his mind, a tsunami sweeps through the fickle synapses of his dumb, dumb nerve cells and renders his IQ inept. "I-I meant! _Fuck_ \- I... uh," Kei sucks in air and exhales through his nose. "What I meant to say was that...I like being a middle blocker b-because it puts my height to good use." 

Though, if they were talking about other positions - Kei's height is a definite disadvantage.

" _Heh._ You love blocking, don't you?"

 _Cock-blocking myself on a daily basis? Yeah. Volleyball?_ "Sorta. I just like the satisfaction of slamming down a spike. It brings me great joy to shut down Hinata's sneaky ones ."

"Then," A chilling glint colours Sakusa's dark orbs a brilliant summer yellow. The older pockets his hands and grins. This time, the crinkle of his smile reaches up to his cheeks. "We should definitely play together sometime."

Kei concludes the sight is rarer than a diamond rainfall. 

"We'll see." So he croaks, thrilled at the prospect of a second meeting.

And like that, they're back to debating on trivial differences. It's all lighthearted sallies or unpredictable retorts - sometimes random, sometimes anticipated. Their exchange develops some sort of an acknowledgement for the instance of deviation from their true natures.

They keep up the mood until the 20th stall. At some point, girls flock to their side and circle around Sakusa like vultures feeding on the latest scrap of meat - so Kei has to act like the ditzy cheerleader boyfriend of a seemingly introverted frat-boy who's truthfully nothing like the image he inadvertently projects to the masses. 

Only when they reach the next two stalls that Kei gets to free himself from the stinky eyes anymore. He (though much despondently) smartly drops the chirpy flirtatious persona and goes back into spouting sardonic humour. It's partly Kei's own effort of trying to abate possible humiliation. Sakusa is considerate enough to return the endeavour.

If it were any other day, and Sakusa were just any other boy from Kei's school or rival teams - Kei wouldn't find it this natural to get along with him. Maybe Sakusa thinks the same. Maybe, they're both using the beach as a _free-zone -_ where they're anything but what people know them for.

And boy does Kei feel like a romantic philosopher for conjuring up such a conclusion so beautifully. He should be a poet. His father once said he could be good at it. Kei delights in the appraisal and absently thinks of rhyming words. _Eyes_ go well with _lies_ , _sad_ is a common rhyme for _bad_ , _blue_ for _hue_ , _rainbow_ for _gay_ and _pecs_ for _abs_ \- no wait those don't count, think Kei, think -

"This is the last stall." 

"What?" Kei perks up and sees a barren burger stand. "There's only twenty-three of them?"

"Yup." Sakusa calmly says. He toys with the coins in his shorts and counts the few bills in Haruto-san's wallet. Kei predicts it won't be long until Aki and Haruto-san figure out they're missing. 

"So...this is it." The blond fidgets with his fingers to keep the tremors of disappointment at bay. _Welp_ , there goes his brief summer-like romance.

"This is it." Sakusa nods at him. A few minutes of droning quiet later, he totters on damp sand and tugs his mask down. "Listen...I - _uh_ , I really had fun today."

Kei smiles, toes giddy with elation. He keeps the curve of his lips coy and minimal - just a fraction of warmth to seep through the open air. "I did too. The day's not as shitty with you around for company."

"I guess getting ditched wasn't such a bad thing either." The older returns him a similar grin. Wordlessly, he pulls the mask back to his face. Kei hides a frown of discontent for the gesture and plays with the hanging thread of his shirt. A phone rings then, impeding Kei from saying anything further. 

Sakusa glimpses at his screen and grimaces. "We should go. Nii-san just texted me. I think they're finally done with their beach sex."

 _And yet we're still unable to begin ours_ , Kei laments inwardly. "I'm guessing they're going to be livid once they find out about what we've been up to."

"No doubt about that." Sakusa scoffs, not too troubled. "I can just tune them out on the way back. It worked on my brother most of the times, you should try it too."

Kei considers telling him he practices the trick on a daily basis. But he's too much of a smitten idiot to do that. So he nods instead and says, "I think I'll do just that."

Surprisingly, the trick doesn't work as well as they had planned. The minute Aki catches sight of them, he angrily stomps towards their direction with a slightly noticeable limp in his walk. Haruto-san doesn't look as pleased with them either. 

When Kei realises that their nagging would persist for the rest of the trip back home, he readies his playlist for some good old muting. One bossy nudge from Sakusa has Kei reluctantly sharing an earbud with the older. 

"We're in this together." Sakusa reasons. 

Kei huffs at his argument and clicks on the first song in his playlist. He instantly regrets the decision when _Happy Together_ by The Turtles chimes in high volume. If Sakusa sees him blush then, he's too busy hiding his own to comment a jest. It's a good thing Kei's finger never hovered over his Rainbow playlist. God knows how much Kei has been embarrassed enough this day. Sakusa absolutely does not have to hear about his apparent gayness for one hour straight.

Along the way, they hit a bump because of Aki's constant caressing on Haruto-san's thigh. The jostle of the car is enough to close the distance between Kei and Sakusa. There's a slight jerking motion as they recover space, their fingers brushing against each other. Sakusa's fingers, Kei realises, is much thicker than his. The warmth they give off is remarkably fervid that Kei almost feels electrocuted (metaphorically of course).

For a split second, Kei imagines being back at the beach. White sand between his toes, waves resounding serenely from the distance, sunset creeping up the horizons - and Sakusa holding his hands as they run across the shoreline. Like a video played at the speed of 0.25, their blithe laughter echoes with the muted thuds of their feet. The chorus of the music amplifies perfectly as Kei is about to trip and Sakusa twirls him in his arms to lean in for a slow, loving kiss on the-

_"Shit!"_

Haruto-san steps on the brakes just then and Kei is sent slamming against the headrest of the driver's seat. The force of the impact paints a bruise on Kei's nose, his airways gasping for oxygen.

"Are you okay?" Sakusa pats a hand on his back. 

Mortified, Kei mutters a squeaking, "Yes."

His nose begs to differ. 

* * *

They part ways with less to say to each other, like the balmy weather of the beach has drained their newfound friendship dry.

Kei treasures the memories nonetheless. He writes a record of their encounters in full detail while bewailing the fact that he doesn't have Sakusa's number.

Asking Haruto-san about him would raise troublesome questions. So Kei's last resort is to sulk until the next Monday comes to haunt him with homework. At least then, Kei would have something to distract himself with.

For all he knows, things will be alright by Monday. And Kei wouldn't have to suffer the consequences of his missteps.

* * *

By Monday, things are grievously _not_ alright.

It's the after hours of his last class when Sato emerges from the ghastly shadows of a lamentable dusk. And he comes bounding onto Kei's way with a blinding grin and too-tight pants fit for the remaining years left of his meagre life-span. 

"Come now, darling. No time to waste." 

Of course, the first thing Sato does is to cling to Kei's shoulders like he has every right to intimate physical contact. 

"For the last time, Sato. You don't have to walk me home!" Not for the first time, Kei is regretful for not taking his volleyball practices seriously. Even with the advantage in height, Sato's grip on him is unforgivingly firm. 

"Kei, my love." Sato tuts. He unconsciously digs his nails into Kei's skin, the indentions of arched daggers marking him red. "You don't know the dangers that await you in these streets."

"Let go of me right now or I will call the police." Kei winces with a hissing threat. Even when he tries to yank off the force on his wrist, the stubborn grasp does not deter. Sakusa was right to chide him on his stature.

"Kei, you can't be this stubborn once we finally have our own children." Sato clicks his tongue in an obnoxious manner that has Kei bristling in ugly displeasure. "It's not good for their environment."

The blond blinks. Five times in total. There is a rampant thump that sizzles in his chest. It chants of homicide and prison. Two things Kei is partly convinced would be a permanent resort for any kinds of distress. If he were to cave in now, striped uniform and chains would be the least of his problems. Kei can take this chance to rid his rainbow path of its wretched thorn. As of this abysmal moment, Kei only has two choices for Sato to choose from:

"Either you let me go, or I will hack your limbs into bite-sized pieces and feed it to the stray cats."

"Honey, _please_." Sato flashes a jaunty grin. "Save the kinky-talk for our honeymoon."

Kei snarls in a bellowing rage and lunges for an attack. Sato clearly has a death-wish that Kei is destined to fulfil. He twists the other's arm and hauls him forcibly to his front. With the rise of tensing elbows, he clenches his fist for heavy impact. In about three seconds, Sato will be executed before a crowd of gawking witnesses. In about three seconds, Kei will land himself in a prison cell.

"Tsukishima-kun."

\- except, his life-changing decision quells before it even begins. A rough pair of palms discourage his motions, intent on saving him from a lifetime of legal upsets. Kei is startled out of his lethal musings. What was once an anticipated freeway to liberation is replaced instead by the recognizable voice of reason.

The blond pivots to meet the imposing tenor of one wickedly handsome Ushjima Wakatoshi. He's clad in brave purple and sparkling dusk. When he shifts just slightly to tower over Kei, his broad silhouette covers half of the attenuated pavement. _Dear god, he is the greek warrior of Kei's always elusive mythology romance._

" _Da_ \- uhm, I mean Ushjima-san...what are you doing here?" Kei peeks from behind him and watches on as Sato is hauled away from him. The last he hears from the other is a screeching objection to someone's cackling. It's from that Tendou guy if Kei recalls correctly. His laugh had been included in one of Kei's random top 10's of things.

There are a few less familiar faces moseying aimlessly by the sidelines. Some Kei has learned to irk and make a bitter enemy out of. Some he has yet to truly notice given any day at the gym after a rigorous practice match. He knows them by their abs and jawlines though, so Kei supposes those memorised minuscule details could count for something. 

Without a doubt, Ushijima's Shiratorizawa team is a flock of regal eagles. Attired with a fancy tandem of royal white and stark purple - no one, not even their quietest, unconcerned Semi Eita or the ever uninvolved Shirabu Kenjiro, could be missed by the incurious strollers. 

For the relatively informed Kei, the sight of them is a daunting rarity.

"Seriously," Kei grows frigid in his spot, limbs ungainly. "What are you guys doing here?"

"I want to ask you the same thing." Ushijima returns. His face is perpetually stoic - a feat Kei is privately fond of. "Was that boy bothering you? Do you know him?

Kei hides his wrist out of instinct. He nibbles on the dry ridges of his lips and nods. "J-just some idiot who lives around my neighbourhood. He wanted to walk me home but I obviously didn't need his creepy company. So thanks for that."

Ushijima furrows his brows, seemingly discontent with his explanation. "That doesn't sound right. How long has he been doing this?"

Kei shrugs and pulls on the strap of his bag. Though the lilt of his voice is clumsy and eager, he tries to make his diction as transparent as possible. "It's nothing to get concerned about, Ushijima-san. Sato's an annoying bastard but he means no serious harm." 

Casting a cursory glance at the older's team, the boy prepares his stance for a smooth departure. As much as Kei wishes to do otherwise - if he makes the exchange quick and simple, he'd have a greater distance from Sato. 

"I should go. Please give my thanks to your team as well." Kei announces softly. He is meticulous in his endeavours. One wrong move and he'll have Sato bouncing back to his side in no more than a second's time. It's not a scenario Kei wants to repeat.

"Hold on."

Before he knows it, there's a grip on his hand again. Kei blinks blanky as he feels calloused skin enclose around his wrist, not once offending it with an itching graze or caustic scratch. From the hazy distance, Kei can hear the background of a rising ruckus. For sure, Tendou is riling Sato up with his offhanded remarks. Kei should _really_ hurry now.

"If you like, I could walk you home instead." Ushijima offers. The group of teenagers milling about behind them look on knowingly. "I could make sure he doesn't follow you again."

Kei contemplates his options and stifles a rueful whine. He isn't exactly certain what to follow. If he yields to his whims, he'll have alone time with the other (an occurrence too fortuitous for an unlucky shithead like him). But if he's too impulsive, there's a high chance that Karasuno will have another rumour circulating about cheating boyfriends and underserving blonds. Perhaps Kei might just find himself the topic of another intervention - where the ever-crafty Sugawara plays Sister Sledge's _We Are Family_ on repeat while the rest of the dumbos chant along like the virgin church boys that they are.

"If I say yes, is your team gonna be okay with that?"

\- Kei decides he finds the former choice unquestionably worth any other compromises. Should the intervention go as imagined, Kei can just hijack the stereo and play mumble rap as he buries his whole team ten feet under the gym's rickety floorboards. If Yamaguchi helps him, Kei might consider sparing the other.

"We're supposed to part ways anyway," Ushijima assures. His voice has always been too enticing to ignore. The older lets his bag drape on his shoulder and signals to his peers, nodding a vague gesture of farewell. With a handsome twist of the lips, he faces Kei and asks, "So... would you like me to?"

Kei is in no way allowed to say _no_ such a genuine offer. If he could have it his way, he'd feign weakness every day just to make Ushijima come to his rescue. He could do it shirtless too, Kei _definitely_ wouldn't mind.

The blond feels his lips move before his brain can catch up. Softly, devoid of distrust or discordance, he hears himself saying, "Okay."

Ushijima casts him a pleased look. Under the shades of orange lamps and retreating dawn, his expression flaunts a colour of its own - triumphant evergreen if Kei were to use pretentious language. He wrestles with the urge to pat the undercut peering from beneath silky locks. His gait is a swaggering manoeuvre towards the narrowest street. Ushijima does not question his choice of direction - he's long been clever enough to know Kei means to deviate from the path Sato typically trails after.

"I heard about the news." The older initiates a discussion minutes after a hush stroll to the second curve. His steps do not stumble but there's a clandestine stutter in the way he phrases his words. Kei can go for days with just the throaty lowness of his voice. 

The boy abstains from any more unholy infatuation of the other and attentively probes, "What news?"

"About you and..." Ushijima clears his throat. "Futakuchi."

Kei lumbers then picks his pace within the span of a millisecond. "Oh." He nearly whispers. "And what about it?"

Ushijima poses his chin still and directs it straight towards the line of their path. "I must say I'm quite disappointed."

Kei frowns. "Disappointed? What, you don't find me suitable enough for the _oh-so-great_ Futakuchi's tastes?"

"Quite the opposite, actually." Ushijima corrects. "I guess I'm just discouraged at the thought of you not being single."

Kei wobbles. This time, his speed is painfully slow Ushijima advances two steps ahead of him. "Come again?"

Ushijima cranes his neck and smirks. "Are you that surprised I'm just like you?"

 _Yes._ "No," _I thought you were as straight as timber._ "I guess I just didn't expect you to be so open about it to a total stranger."

"You're not a stranger to me." Ushijima addresses. "Why do you think I'd go the extra mile of asking you out for an ice-cream date?"

Oh. _Oh no. No fucking way._ Kei gapes. "Wait. So that was a date? I didn't misunderstand it?" _I could have bagged me a guy but I was unable to because of my shitty, dense brain?_ "Why didn't you tell me it was a date?!"

Ushijima chuckles, unaware of the tumult he's planted in Kei's already muddled mind. "You didn't look like you were into it so I thought I'd just let you decide what you wanted our arrangement to be. But I don't think any of that matters now. I heard Futakuchi-san is treating you well."

Hundreds of _what-ifs_ circle through the blond's ears and sing in orchestrated symphonies. He's got a ton of things to say about and rant just so he could expel his mournful sentiments of regrets. This is it. This is the epitome of Tsukishima's ill-omened, unpropitious existence. The heavens must have truly found him beyond saving to have punished him this badly.

"Tsukishima? Are you okay?" 

Kei stares at the gentle voice's owner and nearly crumbles on the spot. Just the thought of having secured himself a date - _a real date_ \- earlier on makes him want to throw a tantrum and bellow out his pathetic sobs. _Damn you, Mother Nature. Damn you to hell._

"Y-yeah. I'm _definitely_ fine." 

Ushijima hums in content. He stills for a second's instance before he speaks again, "I know this is not the polite thing to say but... if he ever mistreats you, I'd be sure to do better than him."

And wasn't that a smooth fucking way to win a guy over. If only Kei had been just as forthright he might not be grieving so much right now. Too bad he's too much of a pussy to do anything about his deplorable situation.

"I'm sure you would." Kei can only say. _I'm sure you would._

* * *

Entry #970:

I wonder if Sakusa has a special thing for filthy sex.

100% would volunteer for testing.

* * *

The first he says to Suna when he calls him is a frenetic, staggering, "I have a problem."

"When do you not?" Suna heeds to his cries of dread as he would any other weekend calls.

"Remember that boyfriend I kept messaging you about?" Kei opens the topic outright. 

There's a prolonged silence from the other end of the line before Suna responds, with rapt humming, "Yeah?"

"He isn't my boyfriend. The whole relationship is fake. And now there's this sweet, handsome guy who's actually into me but he thinks I'm in love with my _not-real_ boyfriend a-and, and -"

"Hang on. You're talking way too fast." Suna intercepts. "Tell me the whole thing. _Slowly_."

Kei glimpses at his clock. "Are you sure? It might take a while."

The blond hears the shuffle of sheets and the creak of a floorboard. Suna quaintly grunts as he throws something on his bed. "I stay up late all the time. Entertain me."

Kei heaves a sigh and falls into the comforts of his blankets with a sound plop. "Okay... it all started because of this guy named Sato..."

* * *

Entry #1000:

Today, Sugawara-san played _We Are Family_ again.

I was forced to wear a cheerleader's skirt and dance for the team as a form of penalty. Tanaka-san was laughing too much I tricked Hinata into spiking a ball to his head.

Baldy-senpai didn't have enough evidence to blame the 'accident' on me.

* * *

Suna gives the entirety of his free evening and lends him a heedful ear all throughout. Kei prattles on about his concerns, stupidities, harrowing regrets and face-palm-inducing tragedies. When he's finally rid himself of all his bottled up emotions, Suna takes pity on him and offers to meet up.

Kei voices out his protests then, stunned by the older's efforts.

"Just say yes," Suna insists nonchalantly. "My team's set to go there for a field trip anyway. I'm not sure why they'd choose such a place but I guess the school's logic can sometimes be beyond comprehension. Not that I'm complaining really, I'd love to laugh at your misery in person."

"You're horrible, you know that."

"I wear it like a badge." Suna agrees. "See you on Saturday, Tsukki. Don't forget to wear those socks I keep telling you about."

"Can't promise anything." He huffs. Ending the call, he retires to bed late and wakes up to Friday with a gnawing ache at the back of his head.

His uneventful Friday comes and passes, intruded by the emergence of a nerve-wracking Saturday.

Kei isn't sure what has led him to his point in his life, clothed in an oversized hoodie paired with black shorts - all while donning a pair of pastel pink thigh-high socks. He doesn't linger on the street too much to avoid unasked attention.

Thinking sharply, he takes shelter in one of the most unvisited places of their humble prefecture. It's a retro music shop of sorts, brimming with colours of a different era and funky posters. The hairstyle of the store's manager is zany too, combed in different angles and shaded with groovy blue and red tips. Kei skims through the albums and lounges longer on the stalls and racks with recognizable music in them. If his father were to see him now, he would weep at how many albums his son has skipped for the last 30 minutes or so.

Not that it matters for Kei if he's unable to gush over some of it. His intentions lie are elsewhere. The store is simply a cover-up he just so happens to find mildly amusing.

 _'Waste your time with lesser entertainment.'_ As his mother routinely suggests.

So here Kei was, wandering about the lonely aisles when - much too abruptly - a handsome boy enters the scene as if with every intention to be part of Kei's growing lists of unrequited (and greatly imagined) romances. He carries a tune of chiming winds and singing choirs. And as he trudges closer, his steps parrot the beat of the store's speakers.

Before Kei knows it, the stereo is blasting off Whitney Houston's vocals on repeat as the floor transitions into a neon-coloured dance floor. There's a shift in the air of Kei's daydreaming. A disco ball hangs above and hovers over two heads - one a blond, one a charming, shimmer of platinum.

Suddenly, the music volume augments to the highest level. Just as the boy meets his gaze, Whitney's powerful vocals reach the chorus of _I Wanna Dance With Somebody_. And if reality were Kei's fantasy, this could be the perfect set-up for a meet-cute. The cool boy sees a funny-looking nerd, notices the album in his hands is a favourite of his, then dares to approach him to strike up a conversation _anndd_... voila - next thing you know they're on to their 68th date.

Except, fantasies have never been the preferred reality of the universe. Kei easily accepts this fact and moves on to another aisle. He doesn't spare the new boy another glance for fear of entertaining obscene musings. 

"ABBA?"

\- all plans of rational judgment fail when the boy chooses to approach him instead.

Kei flinches as he drops a case back to its shelf. It's _Mamma Mia_ , a favoured song of his mother's. 

"Sorry." The boy says, sheepish. "I didn't mean to surprise you."

Kei admires blue eyes and droopy lids. Something about the boy is familiar but he is yet to think straight (or ever) to even think of possible names.

"It's fine." His voice comes off hoarse and unused. He plays his shock with a casual glance to the lower shelves, bumbling. "I liked their songs. They're...iconic."

The boy smiles, approving. "Dancing queen. I think it's one of their best songs. What about you?"

"Mamma Mia." Kei answers. Lately, he's been hearing the lyrics play in his head. Every time he's got his sights on a potential crush, the chorus comes in full blast. Right now, the upbeat melody is making its way again.

"Good choice." The boy compliments. "You often come here?"

"Not really." Kei shakes his head. The conversation is flowing naturally, as though both of them are drawn to what the other has to say. Sort of romantic, if Kei were to humour his thoughts more openly. "And you?"

"I'm only here for a field trip." Silver locks bounce as his company shifts in his spot. "Figured I'd try to make the best out of this getaway to separate from the team."

"Oh?" Kei muses aloud. "A friend of mine is also here for a field trip. I'm actually waiting for him."

"Really? What's their name? I might know them."

"Yeah right." Kei scoffs demurely.

"Well, you never know." The boy argues. "He might be part of my team."

"Team?" Kei parrots. He scans the boy's outfit and tries to guess. "You play volleyball?"

The boy nods at him as if to say yes. With a polite expression, he stretches out a hand and says, "I'm Osamu by the way. Miya Osamu."

Kei takes the hand without so much of a second thought and replies, "Tsukishima. Tsukishima Kei."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm in dire need of your help. i have no idea who to pair kei with for the ending for this story.
> 
> i plan on asking for your votes so i can just go along with the most popular candidate, hoping for your participation <3


End file.
